EGYPT 

ANCIENT  SITES 
AND  MODERN  SCENES 


^^^XJCcOt?3C«C^ 


GASTON  MASPERO 


t^K 


^^i!ilii/A. 


C     EIBRARY     3 

fflLIFDRmH 


HBMRY  FURD. 


X 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/egyptancientsiteOOnnasprich 


EGYPT:   ANCIENT  SITES 
AND    MODERN    SCENES 


THE   RUINS   OF   PHILAE. 


EGYPT:  ANCIENT  SITES 
AND    MODERN    SCENES 

"By    Sir    Gaston    Maspero 

HON.  K.C.M.G.,  HON.  D.C.L.,  AND  FELLOW  OF  QUEEn's 
COLLEGE,  OXFORD  ;  MEMBER  OF  THE  INSTITUTE  OF 
FRANCE,  PROFESSOR  AT  THE  COLLEGE  DE  FRANCE, DIREC- 
TOR-GENERAL OF  THE  SERVICE   DES  ANTIQUITES,  CAIRO 

TRANSLATED   BY   ELIZABETH   LEE 


WITH    SEVENTEEN    ILLUSTRATIONS 


) 


NEW   YORK 
D.   APPLETON   AND  COMPANY 

1911 


my^^ 


(All  rights  reserved.) 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

A  PART  of  my  duties  as  Director  of  the  "  Service 
des  Antiquites  "  in  Egypt  consists  in  an  annual 
inspection  of  the  monuments.  From  1881  to 
1886,  the  period  of  my  first  sojourn  in  Egypt,  a 
steamboat,  the  Menchieh,  was  put  at  my  dis- 
posal. She  was  better  known  to  the  riverside 
population  by  the  name  of  Nimro  Hadachere, 
No.  11.  She  was  a  flat-bottomed  brigantine,  pro- 
vided with  an  engine  of  a  type  archaic  enough 
to  deserve  a  place  in  the  Museum  of  Arts  and 
Crafts.  From  1840  to  1860  she  had  regularly  per- 
formed the  journey  to  and  fro  between  Alexandria 
and  Cairo  once  a  month.  She  was  then  invalided 
on  account  of  old  age,  but  was  again  put  into 
working  order  for  the  visit  of  Prince  Napoleon  to 
Egypt  in  1863.  In  1875  she  was  presented  to 
Mariette,  and  after  a  long  period  of  inaction, 
descended  to  me,  and  I  made  my  journeys  in  her 
for  five  years.  My  successors,  however,  did  not 
preserve  her,  and  on  my  return  I  found  a  princely 
old  dahabieh,  the  Miriam,  which  I  have  used  ever 
since. 

5 


210029 


Prefatory  Note 

At  the  beginning  of  my  campaign,  about  the 
middle  of  December,  I  tow  her,  without  making 
a  halt,  to  the  limit  of  my  course,  to  Assouan 
or  Ouadi-Halfah.  Thence  I  abandon  myself  to 
the  stream,  the  wind  sometimes  assisting  my 
progress,  but  more  often  preventing  it,  so  that 
day  after  day  we  are  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  the  oars  in  order  to  advance  a  mile  or  two. 
Such  a  method  of  navigation,  although  no  longer 
to  the  taste  of  the  tourist,  offers  great  advantages 
to  the  Director  of  the  "  Antiquites."  It  gives  him 
an  opportunity  of  visiting  less  important  sites 
where  no  one  stops  unless  compelled,  sites  that 
he  would  not  himself  have  thought  of  visiting 
had  not  the  impossibility  of  proceeding  against 
the  wind  forced  him  to  drop  anchor  in  their 
neighbourhood.  To  these  unpremeditated  delays 
I  owe  not  only  several  monuments  which  make 
no  bad  figure  in  the  Museum,  but  also  impres- 
sions of  modern  Egypt  that  help  me  to  a 
better  understanding  of  ancient  Egypt.  I  noted 
down  these  impressions  from  day  to  day  without 
any  object  beyond  that  of  giving  adequate 
expression  to  what  I  felt  or  observed,  and  from 
1900  printed  in  Le  Temps  every  year  those  of 
them  that  seemed  likely  to  interest  Egyptologists, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  make  appeal  to  the 
general  public. 

6 


Prefatory  Note 

M.  Guilmoto,  the  publisher  of  "New  Light 
on  Ancient  Egypt,"  suggested  that  I  should 
collect  these  articles  and  issue  them  in  volume 
form.  The  idea  found  favour  with  me,  and  I 
consented.  I  obtained  M.  Hebrard's  permission 
to  use  the  articles  that  had  appeared  in  Le 
Temps,  and  I  added  to  them  some  that  had 
been  printed  in  La  grande  Revue  and  in  La 
Revue  d' Orient, 

May  I  express  the  hope  that  readers  who 
know  Egypt  will  recognise  it  in  this  book,  and 
those  who  do  not  yet  know  it,  may  be  inspired 
by  these  pages  to  make  its  acquaintance? 

G.  MASPERO. 

BiBBH. 


NOTE   ON   THE   SPELLING  OF  THE 
EGYPTIAN   NAMES 

(Written  specially  for  the  English  edition) 

The  transcriptions  of  the  Egyptian  names  in  this  volume  differ  so 
materially  from  those  in  general  use  in  England  that  a  word  of  explana- 
tion in  regard  to  them  seems  advisable.  For  such  barbarous  pro- 
nunciations as  Thoutmes,  Ahmes,  Rausorma,  I  have  substituted  Thoutmosis, 
Ahmosis,  Ousimares,  a  vocalisation  nearer  that  of  the  ancient  pronuncia- 
tion. Some  of  the  vowel  sounds,^  like  those  of  the  three  names  just 
quoted,  are  derived  from  the  Greeks,  or  from  the  Egyptians  of  the 
Graeco-Roman  period ;  others  are  deduced  by  analogy  with  Greek 
transcriptions  from  forms  the  exact  transliteration  of  which  has  not  been 
preserved  for  us  by  the  ancients.  The  reader  will  easily  recognise  the 
former  in  those  where  I  have  kept  the  Greek  or  Latin  terminations  es, 
OS,  or  ws,  is,  ous ;  where  those  terminations  are  wanting,  the  form  is 
deduced  by  analogy,  or  determined  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of 
grammar.  Thus  Amenothes  (Amenhotep),  Khamois  (Kha-em-uas),  Har- 
makhis  (Hor-em-Khou)  are  pronunciations  justified  by  the  Greek 
renderings ;  Amenemhait  (Amenemhat),  Hatshopsouitou  (Hatasou, 
Hashepsou)  are  grammatical  deductions.  Many  points  are  still  doubtful 
and  some  of  the  vowel  sounds  will  have  to  be  modified  in  the  future  ; 
but  they  have  at  least  the  merit  of  testifying  to  an  effort  towards  the 
truth,  and  of  undeceiving  the  public  who,  on  the  faith  of  the 
Egyptologists,  accept  as  legitimate,  pronunciations  which  would  have 
been  considered  monstrous  by  the  Egyptians  themselves. 

An  error  is  easily  corrected  when  it  first  arises,  but  if  it  is  allowed 
to  persist  it  is  an  exceedingly  difficult  matter  to  eradicate  it.  No  better 
proof  can  be  given  than  the  persistence  of  the  form  Hatasou  for  the 
name  of  the  great  queen  who  shared  the  throne  of  the  Pharaohs  with 
Thoutmosis  III.  For  the  sake  of  uniformity,  I  have  adopted  the 
orthography  and  vocalisation  of  the  Grasco-Roman  period,  in  the  same 
way  as  in  France  we  use  the  French  forms,  Clovis,  Clotaire,  Thierry, 
for  the  Merovingian  kings  in  order  not  to  introduce  very  dissimilar 
words  into  our  history  books.  We  must,  however,  remember  that  the 
vocalisation  and  pronunciation  of  names  do  not  remain  unchanged 
during  the  course  of  history.  Not  to  mention  dialect  forms  which 
would  be  too  difficult  to  determine,  I  established  a  long  while  ago,  partly 
by  means  of  the  Assyrian  transcriptions,  that  many  names  of  which  the 
tonic  syllable  is  vocahsed  in  6,  6u,  in  the  Greek  period,  have  the  same 
syllable  vocalised  in  a  under  the  second  Theban  empire,  in  the  vernacular 
of  the  age  of  the  Ramses  :  the  Amenothes,  i.e.,  the  Amenhotep  of 
Manethon,  is  Amanhatep  in  the  inscriptions  of  El-Amarna.  The  recent 
discovery  of  Hittite  archives  confirms  that  fact,  for  they  give  among 
others,  for  the  Ranises  Meiamoun  Ousimares  of  the  Ptolemaic  age,  a 
Ouashmariya  Riamasha  Maiamanou  which  corresponds  with  an  Egyptian 
pronunciation  Ouasimariya  Riamasa  (ou)  Maiamanou.  But  I  did  not 
think  it  advisable  to  introduce  such  variants  into  a  book  intended  for 
the  general  public. 

«  They  should  be  pronounced  as  in  French. 

8 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

FROM  CAIRO  TO  RODAH      .  .  .  .  .      I3 


II.  A   FOG  ON   THE  NILE  .... 

III.  THE  CONVENT  OF  THE  PULLEY  AT  GEBEL-ABOU-FEDA 

IV.  THE  CROCODILE  GROTTO  AT  MAABDEH  . 

V.  A  CAB  DRIVE  IN  SIOUT   .... 

VI.  ON  THE  NILE      ..... 

VII.  KENEH   AND  ITS  MUNICIPALITY     . 

VIII.  DENDERAH     .  .  .  .  . 

IX.  THE  ARRIVAL  AT  THEBES  .... 

X.  A      PARLIAMENT       OF      KINGS       AT       THE      TOMB      OF 
AMENOTHES   II.    . 

XI.  THE  TOMB  OF  AMENOTHES  II.        .  .  . 

XII.  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  ROYAL  MUMMIES 

XIII.  KARNAK  AND  THE  WORKS   IN   THE  HYPOSTYLE  HALL 

XIV.  THE  TEMPLE  OF  THE  THEBAN   PHTAH  AT   KARNAK 

XV.  KARNAK:    LEGENDS   AND  SUPERSTITIONS 

9 


23 

32 
42 

56 
63 
75 
83 
94 

104 
III 
118 
128 
143 
155 


Contents 


PAGE 

XVI.  FISHING  rOR  STATUES  IN  THE  TEMPLE  OF   KARNAK      l68 

XVII.  THE  PHARAOHS  BY  ELECTRIC   LIGHT      .               .               .   183 

XVIII.  AN  ARAB  TALE        .               .               .               .               .               .   194 

XIX.  THE  OPENING  OF  A  NEW  ROYAL  TOMB  AT  THEBES     .   204 

XX.  WITH   SCHWEINFURTH   ON  A   VISIT  TO   THOT    .  .  2l8 

XXI.  A  NEW   PHARAOH  ......   229 

XXII.  ESNEH           .......  238 

XXIII.  EL-KAB         .  .               .                .               .               .                .248 

XXIV.  THE  ENGLISH  EXCAVATIONS  AT  KOM-EL-AHMAR           .   262 
XXV.  EDFOU          .......   270 

XXVI.  ASSOUAN      .               .               .               .               .               .               .281 

XXVII.  THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  SIMEON,  NEAR   ASSOUAN              .   294 

XXVIII.  PHILiE           .               .               .               .               .               ,               .312 

INDEX  .  .  .  .  .  .  .325 


10 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE  RUINS  OF  PHIL^E         ....  Frontispiece 

A  natural  colour  photograph,  reproduced  from  A.  Miethe's  "Unter  der 
Sonne  Ober-Agyptens,"  by  permission  of  the  publisher,  Herr  Dietrich 
Reimer,  of  Berlin. 

TO  FACE  PAGE 
A  'TYPICAL  MIDDLE  EGYPTIAN  VILLAGE     .  .  .  .13 


AN  UPPER  EGYPTIAN  PEASANT        .  .  .  .  -44 

THE  NILE,  NEAR  ASSOUAN  .  .  .  .  .  .63 

PENDERAH.      RELIEF  ON  THE  OUTSIDE  WALL      .  .  .86 

ENTRANCE    TO    ONE    OF    THE    ROYAL    TOMBS    IN    THE  VALLEY 

OF  THE  KINGS  .......    I04 

THEBES.      THE  TOMBS  OF  THE  KINGS         .  .  .  .1X8 

RARNAK.        GENERAL     VIEW     OF     THE     RUINS      NEAR     THE 

SANCTUARY  .  .  .  ...  .  .    I28 

KARNAK.      PTOLEMAIC  GATEWAY    IN    FRONT    OF    THE    TEMPLE 

OF  KHONSOU       .  .  .  .  .  .  .159 

KARNAK.       AVENUE    OF     SPHINXES     LEADING     TO     THE     MAIN 

ENTRANCE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .    168 

THE     HILLS    OF      THEBES     WITH     THE    TEMPLE    OF    DEIR    EL- 

BAHARI  AT   THEIR    FOOT  .  .  .  .  .    2l8 

11 


List  of  Illustrations 


TO  FACE  PAGE 
.    242 


AN    UPPER   EGYPTIAN   MARKET  .... 

EL-KAB.         SMALL      TEMPLE       BUILT      BY      THE      VICEROY      OF 


ETHIOPIA  FOR   RAMSES   II. 
EXCAVATIONS  AT  KOM-EL-AHMAR  . 
EDFOU.      ENTRANCE  TO  THE   MAIN   TEMPLE 
EDFOU.      GENERAL  VIEW       . 
THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.   SIMEON,   NEAR  ASSOUAN 


.  248 
.  262 
.  270 
.  278 
.  299 


12 


OF 


CALIfllSl^ 


Egypt : 

Ancient  Sites  and  Modern   Scenes 


FROM   CAIRO  TO   RODAH 

The  sky  is  overcast,  melancholy  trails  of  mist  float 
over  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  here  and  there 
yellowish  patches  indicate  the  place  where  the 
sun  ought  to  shine.  Can  this  really  be  Egypt  ? 
What  has  become  of  her  light  during  the  thirteen 
years  I  have  been  away  ?  Now,  it  seems,  we 
shiver  on  the  Nile,  and  cannot  venture  on  the 
upper  deck  of  the  boat  without  a  warm  overcoat. 
I  left  Cairo  the  day  before  yesterday,  very  un- 
certain of  my  impressions,  and  somewhat  anxious 
to  discover  if  the  aspect  of  the  river  and  its  banks 
had  changed  as  much  as  the  climate.  Not  so  long 
ago,  in  losing  sight  of  the  last  minarets  of  the  citadel, 
we  seemed  to  bid  farewell  to  the  present  century. 
A  few  factory  chimneys  were  to  be  seen  here  and 

13 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

there  among  the  palm-trees,  or  one  of  Cook's 
steamers  noisily  went  its  way  with  its  cargo  of 
tourists.  But  such  accidents  of  civilisation  quickly 
disappeared  on  the  horizon,  and  with  the  help  of 
the  Pyramids,  along  which  we  coasted  for  two 
days,  we  felt  as  if  we  were  setting  out  for  a  corner 
of  the  antique  world  that  had  somehow  lingered  on 
in  the  midst  of  the  modern  world.  Between  Cairo 
and  Philae  we  traversed  an  Egypt  of  the  past,  not 
an  Egypt  of  any  precise  epoch,  but  a  country 
undefined  as  to  age  and  local  colour,  resembling 
in  some  places  that  of  the  Pharaohs,  in  others 
that  of  the  Turks  or  Mamelouks  ;  in  fact,  each 
traveller,  according  to  the  nature  of  his  studies, 
or  the  turn  of  his  imagination,  could  believe  him- 
self to  be  visiting  the  land  of  the  Pharaoh  Sesostris, 
or  that  of  the  Sultans  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights." 
For  three  days  the  landscapes  of  a  former  age 
have  been  passing  before  my  eyes.  Although  I 
recognise  their  salient  points,  I  find  something 
in  them  which  used  not  to  be  there,  and  which 
has  modified  their  character.  Industrial  life  has 
taken  possession  of  them,  and  is  secretly  trans- 
forming them. 

The  change  becomes  apparent  directly  we  leave 
the  bridge  of  Kasr-en-Nil  behind  us.  The  back- 
ground of  the  picture  is  the  same,  the  green  island 
of  Rodah,  with  its  clumps  of  trees  and  its  Nilo- 

14 


From  Cairo  to  Rodah 

meter  painted  in  variegated  colours,  at  its  southern 
point,  then  the  picturesque  buildings  of  Old  Cairo, 
the  pretty  mosque  of  Atar-en-Nabi,  standing  out 
so  boldly  on  its  promontory,  the  big  mounds  of 
debris  topped  by  the  windmills  of  the  French 
occupation ;  and  as  we  progress  the  panorama  of 
the  citadel  keeps  with  us  for  about  an  hour.  But 
everywhere  along  the  bank  new  buildings  succeed 
each  other  almost  as  far  as  Helouan  opposite  the 
site  of  Memphis  ;  barracks  are  to  be  seen  at  inter- 
vals, chimneys  smoke,  and  as  night  falls  electric 
lights  flash  out  to  right  and  left.  We  have  to 
realise  that  Cairo  in  growing  rich  has  built 
suburbs,  as  is  the  way  of  all  great  capitals,  and 
we  must  thank  fortune  that  modern  industries 
have  been  established  in  these  beautiful  spots 
without  too  greatly  disfiguring  them. 

Beyond  Helouan  and  Bedrechein,  if  we  carefully 
follow  the  line  of  the  embankments,  although  the 
changes  in  the  outskirts  are  fewer,  they  are  not  the 
less  real.  On  the  Libyan  side,  the  dike,  which 
formerly  showed  disorderly  curves  and  was  broken 
here  and  there — and  no  one  thought  of  rectifying 
such  caprices — now  runs  straight,  and  is  properly 
supported  without  breaches  or  indentations  in  the 
coping.  Iron  posts  placed  at  regular  intervals 
mark  out  the  course,  and  allow  of  its  being 
restored    to  its  former    direction  when,  as  some- 

15 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

times  happens,  a  more  violent  rising  of  the  river 
encroaches  on  it.  Thanks  to  its  stability,  land 
which  used  to  be  constantly  threatened  with  the 
depredations  of  the  Nile  has  been  definitely  gained 
for  cultivation,  and  near  Bedrechein  I  found  a 
field  of  Indian  millet  on  exactly  the  same  spot 
where  I  had  formerly  sailed  in  about  six  or  nine 
feet  of  water.  On  the  Arabian  side  progress  has 
been  equally  great,  and  at  first  I  was  astonished 
to  see  verdure  and  groups  of  well-built  houses 
where  my  memory  told  me  there  had  been  the 
uninterrupted  yellow  of  the  sand  and  a  cluster  of. 
wretched  hovels.  From  Atfieh  to  Bibeh,  for  a  whole 
day,  I  ceased  to  observe  the  Libyan  bank  in  order 
to  concentrate  my  attention  on  the  Arabian  one. 
On  my  first  visit  it  remained  almost  exactly 
as  French  scholars  had  described  it  at  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Although  the 
hills  lay  far  towards  the  interior,  the  space 
utilised  was  generally  restricted  and  unequally 
cultivated  for  lack  of  sufficient  water.  Two 
or  three  fragments  of  canals  watered  it  here 
and  there,  and  in  the  spots  where  a  Uttle  verdure 
was  to  be  seen  the  chadouf  or  sakieh  alone  pro- 
vided for  the  needs  of  the  peasants  at  the  cost 
of  incessant  labour.  Nearly  everywhere  the 
desert  or  barren  land  extended  to  the  edge  of 
the    stream ;    a    few     villages    steeped    in    mud 

16 


From  Cairo  to  Rodah 

occupied  the  most  favoured  spots  ;  a  santon  or 
a  dilapidated  Coptic  monastery  might  be  seen 
at  long  intervals.  The  few  attempts  to  revive 
the  perishing  district  made  under  Mehemet  Ali 
and  Ismail  Pacha  had  failed,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  Egypt  on  that  side  of  the  river  was  almost 
dead.  Now  it  is  recovering  from  its  long  ex- 
haustion, and  nothing  is  more  curious  than  to 
note  in  passing  the  signs  of  re-awakening  life. 
At  the  end  of  the  tortuous  pass,  where  the 
insufficient  height  of  the  water  forces  the  stream 
to  flow  to  the  south  of  the  town  of  Karimat, 
there  used  to  be  a  half-ruined  monastery,  Deir- 
el-Memoun,  around  the  walls  of  which  dwelt  a 
few  dozen  fellahs  who  with  the  monks  were 
the  only  human  beings  who  persisted  in  remain- 
ing in  the  place.  About  twenty  ill-cared  for 
palm-trees  formed  the  shelter  of  their  straw 
pallets,  and  their  wretched  plots  of  beans  or 
millet  scarcely  produced  a  greenish  film  in  the 
foreground  of  the  landscape.  Now  the  monastery 
has  been  repaired ;  stone  houses  are  grouped 
round  it,  the  palm-trees  have  spread  and  form 
a  small  wood,  the  fields  have  invaded  the  desert, 
and  the  stir  of  cattle  and  donkeys  betrays  the 
presence  of  a  hard-working  and  prosperous  popu- 
lation. Six  or  eight  hamlets  have  grown  up  in 
the  empty  space  which   stretched   from  Deir-el- 

17  B 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Memoun  to  El  Marazi,  and  the  colonists,  partly 
emigrants  from  the  other  bank,  are  gradually 
conquering  the  desert  places.  The  chadouf, 
worked  by  hand,  still  pumps  up  the  water  with 
its  rhythmic  movement,  but  at  the  same  time 
fixed  steam-pumps,  or  movable  steam-engines 
which  can  be  used  when  and  where  necessity 
arises,  supplement  and  indeed  tend  to  replace 
the  old-fashioned  machine.  Plantations  of  sugar- 
cane are  increasing,  then  millet,  corn,  beans,  and 
on  the  mud  left  by  the  rising  of  the  river  the 
vegetables  of  which  the  native  is  so  fond — lupins, 
onions,  mallows,  cucumbers,  and  water-melons — 
are  cultivated. 

Most  of  the  new  villages  are  of  hewn  stone, 
and  the  surprising  increase  of  the  buildings  has 
necessitated  the  opening  up  of  numerous  quarries 
in  all  the  places  where  the  rocks  are  close 
enough  to  the  river  to  make  exploitation  easy. 
Now  and  again  occur  the  sheds  and  shafts  of 
a  budding  factory,  then  a  large  farm  flanked 
with  a  rudimentary  garden,  then  clumps  of  young 
date-trees,  then  a  number  of  barges  moored  to 
the  quay  awaiting  their  cargoes.  One  of  them 
near  Deir-el-Bayad  carried  a  new  steam-engine, 
and  the  sailors  were  hurrying  to  erect  another 
engine  on  the  bank  in  front  of  a  plantation  of 
full-grown  canes. 

18 


From  Cairo  to  Rodah 

The  sun  has  reappeared,  and  Egypt  is  herself 
again.      The  softness  of  the  air  and  the   beauty 
of  the    sky    invite   the    mind    and    hkewise  the 
powers  of  observation   to    idle  contemplation  or 
somnolent  meditation;    a  real  effort  is    required 
to    resume    my  study  of   the    right    bank,   and 
to  determine    to    note    the    new  and    surprising 
changes    I    see    there.     At    first,   beyond    Bibeh 
activity     seems     to     slacken,     and     the     former 
lethargy  to  prevail.      Industry    has  been   trans- 
ported  to  the  left  bank,  into    the   domains  and 
factories  of  Dairah   Sanieh.      The   rugged  slopes 
of  Gebel  Cheikh  Embarek  come  down  so   close 
to  us  that  they  exclude  all  possibility  of  irrigation 
by  machinery,  and  the  narrow  strips  of  alluvium 
at  their  foot   are  watered   and  cultivated  in  the 
old-fashioned    way.    But  beyond   Charronah    the 
view   changes.      A   broad    green    track  stretches 
for    miles    where     I     recollect    a    dusty    plain 
with  sickly   palms    and    rare   cultivated  patches 
thinly  scattered   over  it,  bounded   on  the  south 
by  the  inactive  chimneys  of  Cheikh-Fadl.     The 
factory,   founded    in  the    good   times   of   Ismail 
Pacha,  was    never    finished.      Sand  accumulated 
at  the  foot   of  its   half-built    walls;   iron   shafts 
and   portions   of  machinery,   mere   heaps    of  old 
iron,   lay   on  the  ground,  abandoned  before  ever 
having    been  used.       Now  cultivated   fields  and 

19 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

plantations     of    young     trees     alternate     almost 
from     Charronah,     steam-pumps     distribute     the 
water    regularly  behind   the    dikes,   railway  lines 
intersect    the    plain,    and   as   we   passed,   several 
steam-engines  were   at  work  on  the   quay,  busy 
with     the    wagons    of    sugar-cane.      Barges    as 
heavily  loaded  as   the   trains   are   placed    in  line 
along  the   bank,   engaged  in   unloading.      Three 
steam-tugs,  with  steam  up,  are  waiting  until  they 
have  been  emptied  to  tow   them,  a  dozen   at    a 
time,  to    the  villages  where  they  have  to  take 
in    a    fresh    cargo.      It   is   done    rapidly   amidst 
the   deafening  noise   that   accompanies   all   work 
in  this  country ;  the  sailors  shout  at  the  porters, 
who  answer  in  still  shriller  tones,  the  chimneys 
snort,  the  engines  pant  and  whistle,  the  donkeys 
bray  in  a  common  harmony.     The  factory  itself 
has    become   unrecognisable;   its    workshops   are 
finished,   and   as   a   consequence  all  the    suitable 
subordinate  buildings  have  risen   from   the   earth. 
First    of    all    comes    a    fine    house    that    seems 
to  be    that    of    the    manager.      Then   a   sort   of 
triumphal    gate     in     Moorish     style     opens     its 
pointed    arch    of    horseshoe     shape     framed     by 
Arabic    inscriptions    traced    in    black    on    a    red 
and  white  ground.     It  stands  in   front  of  brick 
buildings    the    use    of    which     cannot    well     be 
determined  from  the  river.     Lower  down  a  long 

20 


UiMIVSLRSfTY  /I 

OF  ^ 

—^    From   Cairo  to  Rodah 

building  with  two  rows  of  arcades,  one  on  top 
of  the  other,  contains  shops  on  the  ground 
floor,  and  in  the  upper  story  rooms  with 
balconies  for  the  employees ;  it  might  be  called 
the  social  habitation  of  a  co-operative  society.  I 
made  out  several  shop  signs :  J^picerie  et  cafe, 
T abacs,  &c. — all  in  French.  In  fact,  a  French 
engineer,  M.  Mahoudeau,  founded  this  enormous 
factory  for  the  Say-Suares  Company  and  awoke 
the  district  from  its  lethargy.  It  is  no  small 
satisfaction  to  note  the  part  played  by  French- 
men in  the  redemption  of  the  land. 

Is  it,  however,  merely  a  frontage  behind  which 
the  old  poverty  is  as  acute  as  ever?  What  does 
the  fellah  gain  from  all  this  wealth?  Beyond 
Cheikh-Fadl  the  landscape  resumes  its  old  phy- 
siognomy, and  seems  scarcely  touched  by  modern 
industry.  Deir-el-Bakara  has  whitewashed  the 
domes  of  its  churches  and  cut  convenient  steps 
in  the  cliff  to  serve  instead  of  the  breakneck  stair- 
cases by  which  its  destitute  monks  descended  in 
order  to  beg  from  the  dahabiehs.  The  region  of 
the  ancient  tombs  which  begins  at  Minieh  has 
lost  nothing  of  its  primitive  barbarism  :  only  the 
masons  and  fellahs  of  the  other  bank  have  attacked 
the  hill  on  all  sides,  and  destroy  it  even  more 
than  they  work  it  as  a  quarry.  The  change 
is    nowhere    more    apparent   than   in   the   places 

21 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

where  Messrs.  Cook  k  Co.  assemble  their  tourists 
for  the  excursion  to  the  tombs  of  Beni-Hassan ; 
the  houses  there  are  better  cared  for,  the 
inhabitants  are  cleaner  and  better  clothed,  and 
demands  for  bakhshisch  are  universal. 


22 


II 

A  FOG  ON  THE  NILE 

Directly  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  touched  the 
Nile  this  morning  a  fog  arose.  Wreaths  of 
white  vapour  began  to  pass  over  the  water  and 
in  less  than  ten  minutes  we  were  enveloped  in 
it,  and  had  to  cast  anchor  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  It  is  not  Uke  a  European  fog,  thick 
and  heavy,  which  shuts  out  light  and  deadens 
sound.  It  is  an  aerial,  fluid  substance,  a  curtain 
of  almost  transparent  muslin  which  the  light  im- 
pregnates with  silvery  tones,  and  through  which 
every  sound  clearly  penetrates.  Life  goes  on 
around  us,  but  invisible,  and  we  hear  it  without 
knowing  where  it  is.  A  donkey  brays  some- 
where, a  cock  crows  amid  a  chorus  of  clucking 
hens,  sounds  of  quarrelling  are  heard  on  one  of 
the  neighbouring  barges,  a  quail  calls,  and  in  the 
distance  the  big  steamer  full  of  tourists  that  we 
sighted  at  dawn  whistles  desperately  to  warn 
the  other  boats  to  get  out  of  her  way.  Now 
and   again    the   curtain    is    drawn    aside    and    a 

23 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

piece  of  landscape,  floating  at  hazard  as  it 
seems,  is  discovered,  but  the  sun,  insinuating 
itself  through  the  opening,  warms  the  cold 
water,  and  so  causes  mists  to  rise  which  again 
engulf  us.  After  about  an  hour  there  is  some 
movement  in  the  fog;  it  becomes  less  dense, 
is  stretched  out,  is  torn  in  pieces,  and  flies  off 
in  shreds,  which  are  soon  destroyed  and  finally 
vanish  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  world 
reappears  in  a  chaos  of  uncertain  forms,  which, 
however,  become  more  clearly  defined  every  second. 
Five  women  emerge  on  a  narrow  mass  of  brown 
earth,  busy  with  their  water-jars.  An  embank- 
ment is  visible  behind  them,  and  rises  steeply 
in  graduated  terraces  of  vegetation ;  it  ends 
in  a  dike  above  which  the  tops  of  palm- 
trees  are  seen,  and  almost  simultaneously  we 
perceive  the  line  of  hills,  pink  in  colour,  out- 
lined against  the  background  of  the  opaline  sky. 
For  a  few  minutes  the  remains  of  the  fog  soften 
the  contours,  bring  out  the  shadows,  accentuate 
the  reliefs,  and  lightly  touching  the  various 
objects,  clearly  mark  out  the  sites  they  occupy. 
As  the  mist  evaporates  the  relief  is  softened, 
the  contours  become  sharp  and  clear-cut,  dis- 
tances are  effaced.  It  seems  as  if  objects  on 
the  far-off  horizon  are  thrown  forward,  and  that 
the  foreground  and  the  objects  on  it  approach 

24 


A  Fog  on  the  Nile 

and,  indeed,  almost  join  it,  and  that  they  are 
placed  one  upon  the  other  just  as  they  appear 
in  the  pictures  which  decorate  the  walls  of  the 
tombs  of  Memphis  or  of  Thebes. 

Indeed,  who  is  there  who  has  sailed  on  the  Nile, 
even  for  only  a  couple  of  days,  who  does  not  come 
to  realise  how  closely  the  scenes  drawn  by  the 
old  Egyptians  on  their  monuments  resemble  those 
of  to-day,  and  how  faithfully  they  interpreted 
them,  even  in  those  of  their  conventions  which 
seem  to  us  to  depart  farthest  from  reality? 

The  fog  having  entirely  lifted,  the  dahabieh 
continues  its  way.  The  boatmen  row  vigorously, 
keeping  the  strokes  in  time  with  the  voice  of 
the  singer: — 

FiW-rodh  ra'et — hehhiH-gamil. 
(In  the  garden  I  saw — my  handsome  friend.) 

And  all  repeat  in  chorus  with  a  low,  drawling 
intonation,  Hebbil  -  gamil.  Before  they  have 
finished,  the  soloist  attacks  the  high  notes  of 
the  sacramental  refrain,  ia  lei  (O  night  I).  He 
indulges  in  shakes,  prolongs  the  sounds,  swells 
them,  stifles  them,  and  then,  out  of  breath,  stops 
the  last  note  with  a  single  dry  sound.  He  is 
almost  choked  by  his  runs  and  trills,  and  while 
the  crew  are  bursting  with  applause  I  observe 
the  river  and  the  two  banks.     Low  down  in   a 

25 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

line  on  a  bank  of  tawny-coloured  sand  a  number 
of  big  vultures  are  warming  themselves  in  the 
sun;  with  claws  spread  out,  backs  bent,  necks 
driven  down  into  the  shoulders,  wings  folded  in 
front  on  each  side  of  the  breast,  they  joyfully 
receive  the  flood  of  sunshine  which  spreads  over 
their  feathers  and  penetrates  them  with  its  warmth. 
It  is  exactly  how  the  old  sculptors  represented 
the  vulture  of  Nekhabit  in  repose,  the  goddess- 
protector  of  the  Pharaohs,  who  shelters  them 
with  her  wings.  In  imagination,  take  out  the 
biggest  of  the  group,  put  the  pschent  or  the 
white  cap  on  its  head,  the  sceptre  of  power  in 
its  talons,  place  it  in  profile  on  the  tuft  of  full- 
blown lotus  which  symbolises  Upper  Egypt,  and 
you  will  have  the  bas-relief  which  adorns  one  of 
the  sides  of  the  principal  doors  of  the  temple 
of  Khonsou,  and  yet  under  all  this  apparatus  a 
veritable  vulture ;  for  the  covering  of  religious  attri- 
butes has  not  suppressed  the  real  bird.  A  fishing 
eagle  comes  and  goes  above  our  heads  in  quest 
of  his  morning  meal.  He  describes  immense 
circles,  slowly  beating  the  air,  then  suddenly 
lets  himself  drift  along,  leaning  on  his  wings, 
his  body  suspended  between  them,  his  feet 
stretched  out,  his  head  bent,  his  eyes  searching 
the  depths  of  the  water.  Watching  him  progress 
thus,  scarcely  moving  at  all,  he  resembles  a  hawk 

26 


A  Fog  on  the  Nile 

of  the  Theban  sculptors,  Horus,  who  hovers  above 
the  helmet  of  the  Pharaoh  in  battle,  or  who, 
displayed  on  the  ceilings  of  the  temples,  dominates 
the  sweep  of  the  central  nave  from  the  doors  of 
the  hypostyle  to  those  of  the  sanctuary.  When 
presently  he  descends  and  rises  again  with  his 
prey,  it  will  be  with  the  same  gesture  and  bearing 
with  which  Horus  in  battle  manipulated  his 
mystical  fly-net  and  his  ring  symbolic  of  eternity. 
A  troop  of  donkeys  coming  out  of  a  hollow  behind 
the  embankment  under  a  load  of  well-filled  sacks 
might  be  the  very  one  that  served  as  model  to 
the  draughtsmen  of  the  tomb  of  Ti  for  the  carry- 
ing in  of  the  harvest.  The  mingled  flock  of  sheep 
and  goats  which  follows  at  a  gentle  trot  stand 
out  with  so  exact  a  profile,  that  they  seem  to 
be  solely  composed  of  moving  silhouettes ;  it  is 
indeed  a  picture  come  down  from  its  ancient  wall 
to  go  to  the  neighbouring  market.  And  as  the 
banks  pass  before  me  with  their  episodes  of  con- 
temporary life,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  bas-reliefs 
of  the  tombs  have  become  alive  and  of  natural 
size ;  there  are  the  oxen  going  to  the  fields  with 
measured  tread,  the  ploughing,  the  fishermen 
yoked  to  their  net,  the  carpenters  building  a  barge. 
They  have  installed  their  ladders  on  a  sloping  piece 
of  shore,  and  crouching  in  the  attitudes  of  monkeys, 
nail  the  timbers  with  blows  of  the  hammer. 

27 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

The  creators  of  Egyptian  art  took  the  Nile  for 
their  point  of  view  when  they  set  to  work  to  put 
these  isolated  objects  together,  and  to  engrave 
them  harmoniously  in  the  chapels  of  the  tombs  in 
order  to  ensure  their  dead  continuation  of  earthly, 
existence  for  an  indefinite  period.  They  placed 
all  that  characterised  life  on  the  river  itself  or 
on  the  canals  at  the  bottom  of  the  wall — the 
convoys  of  laden  boats,  the  disputes  of  the  sailors, 
the  fishing  scenes,  the  hunting  of  water-fowl. 
Above  came  the  seasons  of  the  agricultural  year 
— ploughing,  sowing,  reaping,  threshing,  storing 
in  the  granaries.  Higher  still  came  the  pastures 
with  ruminating  oxen,  and  above,  almost  touching 
the  ceiling,  the  desert  and  the  hunters  on  the 
track  of  the  gazelle.  The  panorama  widens  out 
or  is  closed  in  according  to  the  extent  of  the 
surface  to  be  covered,  and  all  the  elements  which 
compose  it  are  not  necessarily  reproduced  every- 
where ;  one  part  is  suppressed  here,  or  developed 
there,  or  combined  elsewhere,  but  what  is  used 
follows  the  invariable  order  from  bottom  to  top. 
The  variations  of  the  ancient  theme  were  forming 
and  changing  every  moment  under  my  eyes  as 
the  day  advanced.  In  some  places  the  river  is 
deserted  and  its  banks  empty,  but  the  ploughs 
make  furrows  in  the  plain,  and  the  hills  show 
their   cold   slopes   above   them.     A  little   farther 

28 


A  Fog  on  the  Nile 

on  the  hills  sink  behind  the  horizon,  and  the 
plain  seems  a  flat,  empty  space  without  vegeta- 
tion or  visible  habitations.  Three  or  four  miles 
higher  up  stream  the  Nile  becomes  suddenly  ani- 
mated and  a  long  series  of  boats  cross  each  other, 
and  are  driven  back  or  thrust  gaily  forward  by  the 
north  wind.  But  the  surfaces  on  which  life  circu- 
lates, instead  of  falling  back  one  behind  the  other, 
seem  to  rise  one  above  the  other  as  in  the  works 
of  the  old  masters,  who  certainly  both  simplified 
and  complicated  the  different  subjects  they  chose 
to  bring  together.  They  almost  all  made  it 
a  rule  not  to  attempt  to  depict  the  ground, 
substituting  for  it  a  single  straight  line  on  which 
the  persons  included  in  the  same  scene  moved 
and  by  which  they  were  supported.  In  the 
upper  rows  they  depict  scenes  that  distance  did 
not  permit  them  to  perceive  any  more  than  it 
does  us,  despite  the  incredible  transparency  of  the 
air,  and  they  attribute  to  them  the  same  propor- 
tions as  those  of  the  scenes  in  the  lower  rows. 
These  defects  were  imposed  on  them  by  the 
ritual  of  their  religion.  Were  not  these  pictures, 
so  carefully  and  accurately  executed,  really  magic 
charms  on  the  composition  of  which  depended 
the  survival  of  a  human  being  after  death  ?  The 
slightest  error  might  imperil  the  destiny  of  the 
double,  and  so  the  artists  were  obliged  to  sacrifice 

29 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

the  probabilities  of  perspective  to  minute  truth 
of  detail. 

The  dahabieh  goes  on  its  way,  and  the  singer, 
grown  tired,  pauses  to  take  breath,  but  his  com- 
panions brutally  recall  him  to  his  duty.  "  You 
are  paid  fifty  piastres  more  than  us  to  sing,  and 
you  want  to  rest:  go  on,  open  your  mouth,  and 
use  your  voice."  He  allowed  himself  to  be  im- 
plored for  a  few  minutes  and  then  began  again : — 

"  In  the  garden  I  saw — my  handsome  friend, 
Who  was  gently  swaying — like  the  branch  of 
the  nabeca," 

and  the  crew  repeats : — 

"  like  the  leaf  of  the  nabeca. 
Permit  and  grant — 0  my  beloved, 
And  fulfil  thy  promises  for  the  best." 

On  the  bank  the  men  on  the  barges  at  anchor, 
the  carpenters,  the  donkey-boys,  the  women  draw- 
ing water,  leave  off  their  work  and  listen ;  when 
the  refrain  is  reached  their  delight  bursts  forth 
in  enthusiastic  exclamations  of  "  Ah ! "  or  of 
"  Allah !  Allah ! — Blessed  be  thy  mother,  O  thou 
man  of  songs  ! — May  our  divine  master  guard 
thee  !  Again,  again,  and  again  may  the  bene- 
diction of  the  Prophet  fall  on  you  ! "     We  advance 

30 


A  Fog  on  the  Nile 

to  the  sounds  of  the  general  jubilation,  and  with 
approving  laughter  our  boatmen  respond  to  the 
benedictions  which  rain  on  them  from  the  bank. 
The  tune  is  slow,  sweet,  somewhat  sad,  adapted 
to  the  rhythm  of  the  oars ;  it  has  undergone  no 
change  during  the  five-and-twenty  years  I  have 
known  it,  and  it  must  certainly  have  been  trans- 
mitted intact  for  generations.  It  must  have  been 
sung  with  Egyptian  words  when  Egypt  had 
Pharaohs,  and  perhaps  Ramses  II.  heard  it  when, 
returning  from  his  Syrian  campaigns,  he  regained 
victorious  Thebes  in  triumph. 


31 


Ill 

THE  CONVENT  OF  THE  PULLEY  AT 
GEBEL-ABOU-FEDA 

A  LITTLE  before  Omm-el-Kou(;our  the  cliff  is 
broken,  and  through  the  opening  appears  a  row 
of  red  and  white  tombs  dominated  by  a  wall 
of  greyish  bricks  supported  against  the  rock.  It 
is  a  furtive  apparition,  vanishing  almost  as  soon 
as  perceived,  but  so  strange  that  it  leaves  a  per- 
manent impression  on  the  mind.  Once,  four  years 
ago,  I  wanted  to  approach  it,  but  I  arrived  at 
nightfall,  and  my  boatmen  told  me  stories  of 
ghouls  lying  in  wait  in  the  mountain  fastnesses; 
it  would  be  all  up  with  our  lives  if  we  dared  to 
land  after  sunset ;  perhaps  even  we  were  not  safe 
on  the  Nile  aboard  the  dahabieh.  I  respected 
their  fears,  and  agreed  to  wait  till  the  next  day. 
But  the  captain  put  off  at  dawn,  while  I  was  still 
asleep,  and  I  was  obliged  to  postpone  the  visit. 
I  have  now^  just  accomplished  it,  thanks  to 
a  fresh  northerly  breeze   which  forced   us  to  put 

'  February,  1906. 
32 


The  Convent  at  Gebel-Abou-Feda 

in  here.  It  was  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon, 
and  porters  on  the  bank  were  loading  boats  with 
rough  stone.  As  neither  ghouls  nor  afrites  care 
to  risk  themselves  in  the  sun,  no  one  was  afraid 
or  refused  to  accompany  me.  The  ouady  is 
not  more  than  100  yards  wide.  It  extends 
northwards  for  about  1,500  yards,  then  divides 
into  two  branches,  one  running  straight  to  the 
south  parallel  with  the  river,  while  the  other 
slants  to  the  north-east  and  is  lost  in  the  desert. 
Twenty  years  ago  there  were  ancient  quarries  on 
the  southern  slope  which  were  visible  from  the 
shore:  they  have  now  been  destroyed.  Most  of 
the  Grasco-Roman  tombs  which  prolonged  the 
line  of  the  quarries  towards  the  interior  have  also 
been  destroyed ;  one,  however,  still  stands,  on 
which  the  remains  of  a  resurrection  scene  may 
be  distinguished,  an  Anubis  under  the  mask  of  a 
jackal,  and  a  Nephthys  on  guard  over  a  mummy 
lying  on  its  funeral  bed.  The  hill  stood  out 
sharply,  and  the  stone  lay  scattered  about  in 
broad  white  slabs,  stained  with  black  where  the 
chambers  of  the  mine  had  exploded.  How  many 
more  summers  will  it  spread  itself  in  the  sun? 
A  few  seasons  of  defective  exploitation  have 
miserably  devastated  what  twenty  centuries  had 
respected,  and  has  spoiled,  almost  wantonly,  one 
of  the  most  original  landscapes  of  Egypt. 

33  c 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

At  close  quarters  the  cemetery  does  not  preserve 
the  picturesque  aspect  it  had  at  a  distance.  It  had 
long  been  deserted  when  the  Copts  reoccupied  it 
in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century.  At  first 
they  came  one  at  a  time,  at  long  intervals ;  then, 
fashion  aiding,  the  notables  of  the  villages  built  on 
the  western  bank  of  the  river  held  it  an  honour 
to  repose  there,  as  if  in  ground  sanctified  by  the 
bones  of  holy  monks.  The  convoy  arrives  in 
several  boats,  lands  noisily,  and  as  soon  as  it  is 
disembarked  the  procession  is  formed,  the  clergy 
with  the  cymbals  and  big  drum  which  accompany 
the  cadence  of  the  Uturgical  prayers,  the  hand-bier 
covered  with  its  purple  pall,  the  family  and  friends 
in  ceremonial  garments,  the  women  methodically 
dishevelled,  and  ready  to  howl  at  the  first  signal. 
The  tombs  are  arranged  on  the  same  principle 
as  those  of  the  Musulmans.  For  the  poor,  a  mere 
hole,  or  at  best  a  shallow  trench  walled  up  with 
dry  bricks,  both  covered  with  a  heap  of  earth  or 
pebbles,  a  stone  set  up  at  the  head  and  feet.  A  step 
higher  in  the  social  scale,  the  irregular  mound  be- 
comes a  bank,  a  rectangular  brick  mastaba,  bare  or 
hastily  covered  with  whitewash.  For  families  in 
easy  circumstances  there  are  veritable  concessions 
in  perpetuity.  The  tomb  is  placed  in  the  midst 
of  a  brick  framework  surmounted  by  a  cylindrical 
vault,  also  of  brick,  the  height  of  which  is  some- 

34 


The  Convent  at  Gebel-Abou-Feda 

times  a  little  over  6  feet.  The  narrow  faces 
remind  us  of  the  arched  stelge  of  the  Pharaonic 
age,  and  on  one  of  them,  most  often  the  west 
face,  the  mason  designs  in  burnt  bricks  the  Greek 
cross,  the  monogram  of  Christ,  a  crown,  a  lozenge. 
The  rich  have  enclosures  where  they  are  immured 
in  pomp  when  their  days  on  earth  are  ended. 
Neither  battlements  with  rounded  embrasures  nor 
domed  chapels,  as  in  Musulman  cemeteries,  are  to 
be  seen.  They  include  tombs  for  the  master,  his 
wife,  his  brothers,  his  children.  Everything  is 
crowded  together  in  disorder,  and  the  low  mound 
of  the  poor  man  is  found  side  by  side  with  the 
brand-new  mausoleum  of  the  proprietor  of  a 
hundred  feddans.  The  most  ancient  sepulchres 
are  crowded  together  near  the  river.  When  there 
was  no  longer  room  there,  they  spread  quickly 
towards  the  east ;  now  they  very  nearly  touch 
the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

When  the  monks  settled  there,  probably  at  the 
beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  they  took  up  their 
abode  in  the  pagan  tombs  on  the  southern  slope, 
and  they  adapted  one  of  the  hoUowed-out  quarries 
on  the  northern  slope  as  a  church.  It  comprised 
a  part  open  to  the  sky,  forming  an  esplanade,  and 
two  or  three  subterranean  chambers  supported  by 
pillars  cut  out  of  the  rock  ;  these  were  devoted 
to  divine  worship,  and  they  built  a  wall  round 

35 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

them  strong  enough  to  protect  them  in  case  of  a 
sudden  attack.  Repeatedly  destroyed,  the  Deir 
has  always  been  restored,  and  was  lately  entirely 
rebuilt  by  a  rich  personage  whom  local  tradition 
calls  the  Emir  Tadrous.  From  without  it  is  a 
mass  of  bricks  leaning  up  against  the  rock,  and 
pierced  on  the  south  side  by  five  dormer  windows 
placed  high  up.  The  door  opens  at  right  angles 
at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  west  face,  a  bay 
just  large  enough  to  admit  one  man ;  then  come 
two  steps  in  the  masonry,  a  heavy  wooden  swing- 
door,  a  steep  slope  enclosed  by  two  massive 
buildings.  The  courtyard  is  bordered  by  buildings 
on  three  sides,  some  of  which  still  stand,  while 
others  have  been  razed  to  the  ground  ;  on  the 
north  side  are  benches  on  which  visitors  or  guards 
spent  the  night,  then  vaulted  chambers,  of  which 
one,  occupying  the  corner  of  the  rocky  wall  and  of 
the  western  curtain,  contains  a  bakery  and  kitchen 
stoves,  while  the  others  were  used  for  storing  forage 
and  provisions.  The  use  of  the  small  chambers 
along  the  southern  side  is  uncertain ;  in  one  of  them 
are  four  water-jars,  and  perhaps  another  may  have 
served  as  a  lavatory.  In  the  middle,  the  ground 
has  lately  been  trampled  ;  it  is  sprinkled  with 
asses'  dung.  In  one  corner  is  a  heap  of  ashes 
round  the  stones  of  a  rustic  fireplace  ;  bread  has 
been  baked  there,  and  some  one  has  watched  the 

36 


The  Convent  at  Gebel-Abou-Feda 

fire.  Have  the  eoastguardsmen  encamped  there 
on  one  of  their  rounds  ?  or  quarrymen  who  were 
prevented  returning  home  by  an  unfavourable 
wind  ?  or  some  of  the  faithful  from  the  opposite 
shore  to  celebrate  a  festival  or  pray  for  their  dead  ? 
The  natives  are  little  sensible  of  the  picturesque 
interest  of  the  place,  and  the  beauty  of  the  spot 
of  itself  would  not  be  sufficient  either  to  bring 
them  or  to  keep  them  there.  And  yet  the  view 
from  here,  although  perhaps  not  one  of  the 
most  beautiful,  has  an  irresistible  charm  for  a 
European :  at  our  feet  are  the  tombs,  of  a  funereal 
whiteness,  the  ouady  intersected  with  little 
streams,  the  result  of  the  January  rains,  then 
the  violated  hypogeums,  the  hill  with  its 
bruised  and  peeled  surface,  a  glimpse  of  the 
shining  Nile,  the  coming  and  going  of  barges 
with  sails  set,  an  embankment  striped  with  black 
and  green,  a  line  of  trees,  a  background  of  rose- 
coloured  hills,  and  spread  over  all  the  wonderful 
light  of  Egypt  that  harmonises  the  most  discor- 
dant tones  and  makes  them  pleasing  to  the  eye. 
A  brick  screen  bars  the  entrance  to  the  quarry, 
up  to  about  2  feet  8  inches  from  the  ceiling.  It 
is  adorned  half-way  up  with  a  lozenge  and  a  cross 
in  burnt  bricks,  the  red  colour  standing  out  against 
the  dull-grey  of  the  bare  earth.  The  little  rough, 
low  door  which  shelters  itself  under  the  cross  is 

37 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

entirely  covered  with  iron  and  bristles  with  big 
nails.  The  key  is  probably  to  be  found  on  the 
other  bank,  five  or  six  miles  from  here,  but  it  is 
always  possible  to  make  a  compromise  with 
Oriental  locks :  one  of  the  boatmen  pulls  to  the 
right,  pushes  to  the  left,  gives  the  lower  corner 
two  or  three  blows  with  his  fist,  invokes  the  name 
of  the  Prophet,  and  there  we  are  in  the  church. 
The  Coptic  architects  had  not  greatly  altered  the 
work  of  the  heathens.  They  preserved  the  two 
pillars  which  supported  the  ceiling,  and  behind, 
on  the  great  axis  of  the  building,  they  built  a 
rectangular  enclosure  pierced  on  the  west  by  the 
ritual  doors  :  it  is  the  hekal,  the  sanctuary,  with 
three  niches  in  which  the  altar  is  set  up  and  the 
priest  performs  the  Mass.  It  is  covered  with 
the  inevitable  whitewash,  to  which  time  gives 
the  creamy  tones  of  old  ivory,  and  it,  as  well  as  the 
pillars,  is  adorned  with  red  crosses  and  interlaced 
ornaments  like  those  found  as  headings  of  chapters 
in  the  elaborate  evangelistaries  of  the  tenth  and 
eleventh  centuries.  There  is  space  enough  be- 
tween the  hekal  and  the  pillars  and  then  between 
the  pillars  and  the  fa9ade  to  resemble  the  plan  of 
the  ordinary  basilica,  and  to  allow  us  to  imagine  in 
a  sort  of  way  the  nave  and  the  narthex.  With  some 
crowding  a  small  number  of  the  faithful  would 
have  been  able  to  get  in  at  the  moment  of  the 

38 


The  Convent  at  Gebel-Abou-Feda 

Communion  ;  the  rest  of  the  congregation  would 
have  had  to  remain  in  the  broad  corridor  that  sur- 
rounded the  sanctuary.  Behind  the  altar,  benches 
had  been  cut  in  the  rock,  and  also  a  small  chamber 
which  seemed  to  be  used  as  a  sacristy.  On  the 
south  wall  opposite  the  door  a  staircase  with 
uneven  steps  led  to  a  sort  of  curtain  along  the 
east  wall  almost  under  the  ceiling.  An  irregular 
fissure  allowed  it  to  communicate  on  the  south 
with  a  long,  low,  narrow  chamber,  which  obtained 
light  at  the  side  from  three  dormer  windows 
opening  on  to  the  ouady.  It  was  a  half-formed 
gallery  that  the  monks,  when  they  appropriated 
the  rest,  omitted  to  use.  It  acted  as  a  sort  of 
ventilating  shaft,  and  the  air  it  took  in  kept  the 
atmosphere  of  the  Holy  of  Holies  pure  and  fresh. 
Although  the  church  was  nearly  always  shut  up, 
it  lacked  the  feeling  of  heaviness  and  suffocation  so 
disagreeable  in  most  of  the  crypts  of  Christian 
Egypt. 

A  common  lantern  of  cut  tin  and  clouded 
glass  hung  between  the  two  pillars ;  a  three-legged 
wooden  stool  was  upside  down  in  a  corner,  near 
a  fragment  of  ragged  straw  matting.  There  was 
neither  furniture  nor  table  utensils  to  tempt 
the  cupidity  of  a  thief  or  excite  the  rage  of  a 
fanatic.  When  a  service  was  held,  a  circum- 
stance that  only  occurred  three  or  four  times  a  year, 

39 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

the  priest  brought  the  necessary  material  with 
him.  The  rest  of  the  time  the  church  was  deserted, 
but  its  bareness  does  not  give  a  sense  of  melan- 
choly. Daily  Ufe  must  be  hard  for  the  unfor- 
tunate men  whom  the  religious  vocation  has 
exiled  to  this  corner  of  the  desert.  It  is  cold 
there  in  winter,  when  the  north  wind  takes  up  its 
abode  in  the  ouady  and  sweeps  it  in  gusts ;  and 
in  summer  the  heat  is  torrid  and  the  nights 
bring  no  reUef  from  the  tortures  of  the  day. 
The  monks,  ill-clothed,  worse  fed,  weakened  by 
the  excessive  fasting  that  the  rule  prescribes, 
each  isolated  in  his  hypogeum  among  the  relics 
and  memorials  of  pagan  death,  endure  the  same 
torments  as  did  the  hermits  of  the  Theban  laures. 
The  mummies  whose  dweUings  they  have  seized 
return  to  life,  and  relate  the  history  of  their 
damnation.  Satyrs  and  monsters  arise  in  front 
of  them  and  try  to  lead  them  away  into  the 
desert.  Unchaste  fairies  offer  themselves  to 
them  in  all  the  glory  of  their  tempting  beauty, 
and  sometimes  while  they  are  meditating  on 
the  ^Scriptures  demons,  expert  in  theological 
subtleties,  suddenly  confront  them  with  the 
most  captious  objections.  After  these  infernal 
struggles  the  church  is  their  harbour  of  refuge. 
The  evil  spirit  does  not  dare  to  follow  them 
there,  and    during   the  respite  he  is   forced    to 

40 


The  Convent  at  Gebel-Abou-Feda 

grant  them,  they  strengthen  their  minds  for 
future  assaults  by  conversing  with  their  spiritual 
fathers  and  brothers  or  in  communion  with  the 
Lord.  I  am  told  that  demoniacal  temptations 
are  still  sometimes  experienced  in  the  convents 
on  the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea.  The  time  for 
such  things  is  over  in  our  case  ;  but  the  sense 
of  having  once  again  found  the  peace  that  was 
the  possession  of  the  monks  of  old  still  persists, 
and  so  strongly,  that  even  the  passing  stranger 
is  affected  by  it.  It  steals  on  us  without  our 
knowledge,  penetrates  us,  and  when,  as  the  first 
shades  of  evening  draw  on,  we  quit  the  convent 
we  carry  something  of  the  feeling  back  with 
us  to  the  dahabieh. 


IV 

THE  CROCODILE  GROTTO  AT  MAABDEH 

The  caves  which  the  eddies  of  the  river  have 
bored  in  the  low-lying  rocks  of  Abou-Feda 
sheltered  the  last  crocodiles  of  Middle  Egypt. 
Thirty  years  ago  we  might  count  twenty: 
to-day  there  are  none.  Have  the  inhabitants  of 
the  neighbouring  villages  killed  them  one  by 
one,  or  have  the  creatures  secretly  emigrated 
southwards  in  order  to  join  their  Nubian 
cousins  ?  No  one  would  suspect  in  what  numbers 
they  had  swarmed  in  this  district,  if  we  did 
not  possess  the  proof  in  the  thousands  and 
thousands  of  mummies  the  remains  of  which 
fill  the  hypogeum  of  Maabdeh. 

If  we  desire  to  visit  it  we  must  disembark 
at  Chekalkil.  The  embankment  is  so  high  that 
it  entirely  shuts  out  any  view  of  the'  country 
beyond,  and  does  not  allow  us  to  estimate  the 
distance  that  separates  the  hill  from  the  Nile. 
In  stepping  ashore  it  would  seem  to  be  scarcely 
more    than  one  or  two  hundred    yards,   but  as 

42 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

soon  as  we  reach  the  top  of  the  high  bank 
we  see  that  we  are  far  out  in  our  reckoning. 
A  broad,  deep  plain  is  revealed,  varied  in  aspect 
and  in  vegetation :  we  see  much  com,  much 
barley,  helbeh,  flowering  beans,  the  sweet  and 
delicate  scent  of  which  permeates  the  morning 
freshness,  chickpeas,  lupins,  clover,  but  all 
weakly  and  poor,  for  in  the  last  two  winters  ^ 
the  rising  of  the  river  was  insufficient,  and  the 
ground  does  not  yield  its  usual  crops.  A  part 
of  the  fodder  has  already  been  cut  for  lack  of 
water  for  irrigation,  or  the  cattle  have  been 
turned  on  to  it  before  it  should  become 
burnt  up.  We  meet  a  vanguard  of  goats  and 
kids  straggling  along,  with  swaying  ears,  led 
by  two  little  girls.  Farther  on,  about  forty 
tethered  buffaloes  and  cows  are  feeding,  and 
they  leave  off  in  order  to  study  us. 

The  herdsman,  an  enormous  bearded  fellow 
who  spends  his  leisure  in  spinning  wool,  cannot 
get  over  his  astonishment  at  seeing  so  many 
Europeans  together.  Much  surprised  at  our 
sudden  appearance,  he  greets  us  gravely  with  a 
salam  aleikoum,  as  if  we  were  Musulmans.  Two 
sleek  asses'  foals  who  are  gambolling  round  him 
leave  him,  and  after  smelling  at  us  for  a  minute 
determine   to   accompany  us  to  the   village,  and 

^  1902-3. 
43 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

gallop,  braying,  kicking,  and  shaking  their  comical 
ears  with  all  the  joy  befitting  their  youth.  My 
guide  assures  me  that  they  are  own  nephews  of 
my  donkey,  and  in  their  gambols  he  discerns  a 
touching  sign  of  family  concord. 

Maabdeh  has  increased  greatly  in  the  last 
twenty  years.  It  formerly  consisted  of  two  or 
three  groups  of  wretched  hovels  separated  by 
mounds  of  dirt  and  evil-smelling  pools.  The 
Maazeh  Bedouins  prowled  about  on  the  outskirts, 
stealing  the  cattle  and  pillaging  the  crops ; 
sometimes,  even,  if  they  chanced  to  meet  a 
woman  or  child  alone,  they  carried  them  off  to 
their  tents  and  did  not  restore  them.  The 
supervision  that  has  been  exercised  over  them 
since  that  time  has  forced  them  to  give  up 
these  evil  habits.  Those  who  did  not  prefer  to 
withdraw  to  the  desert  bought  land,  and  have 
become  improvised  agriculturists:  they  meet 
their  former  victims  as  friends,  and  instead  of 
plundering  them,  buy  their  sheep,  or  ask  their 
daughters'  hands  in  marriage.  But  the  memory 
of  their  raids  lingers  sufficiently  for  the  fellahs 
to  continue  to  take  precautions  against  any 
return  of  their  savage  customs.  The  new  houses 
are  built  of  burnt  bricks  to  a  height  of  about 
5  feet,  so  as  to  prevent  sapping,  and  then 
above  that  base  rises  a  wall  of  unburnt  bricks, 


AN  UPPER  EGYPTIAN   PEASANT. 


To  face  p.  44. 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

without  projection  or  opening,  to  the  point 
where  the  light  ladders  in  common  use  in  the 
district  reach.  The  wall  would  defy  the  Bedouins' 
assaults  for  two  or  three  days  at  least,  certainly 
long  enough  for  the  police  stationed  in  the 
neighbourhood  to  come  to  the  rescue.  Maabdeh 
presents  the  common  type  of  the  villages  of 
Upper  Egypt,  narrow  winding  alleys,  rubbish- 
heaps,  a  litter  of  dung  and  dry  dourah  straw, 
troops  of  half-wild  dogs  who  wander  listlessly 
round  in  quest  of  bones,  or  sleep  stretched  across 
the  path,  and  growl,  but  without  disturbing 
themselves,  under  our  donkeys'  hoofs.  To  right 
and  left  through  the  half-open  doors  may  be 
seen  the  usual  interior — a  little  irregular-shaped 
courtyard,  with  its  bench  of  beaten  earth,  a  few 
coarse  earthen  vessels  scattered  about  in  one 
corner,  the  fireplace,  the  heavy  water-jar  that  the 
women  have  filled  at  the  river  that  morning,  hens 
pecking,  children  crying,  and  at  the  back  the 
recess  into  which  the  whole  family  crowd  each 
night  for  sleeping.  It  is  disorder  and  dirt  in  all 
its  hideousness,  but  it  is  not  want,  although  the 
inundation  had  been  far  from  satisfactory  and 
the  cholera  had  raged.  The  people  live  in  these 
hovels  because  it  is  an  inveterate  habit:  they 
lived  so  six  thousand  and  more  years  ago  under 
the  reign  of  Menes,  and  what  was  good  enough 

45 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

for  the  fathers  is  good  enough  for  the  sons  from 
generation  to  generation.  The  canal  which 
bounds  the  village  on  the  east  is  almost  every- 
where empty,  and  the  Uttle  water  it  contains  is 
concentrated  in  greenish  spots  in  the  hoUowest 
parts  of  the  bed.  The  flocks  and  herds  bathe 
in  it,  the  children  paddle  in  it,  the  women  wash 
the  clothes  in  it,  and,  if  they  have  no  time  to  go 
down  to  the  Nile,  draw  water  from  it  for  drink- 
ing and  cooking  purposes.  The  donkeys  refuse 
to  touch  it  with  the  tips  of  their  lips,  but  men 
drink  it  without  flinching,  to  die  like  flies  in  the 
autumn  at  a  period  of  epidemic.  Beyond  lies 
the  cemetery  round  its  cheikh  with  a  greyish 
cupola,  and  its  two  or  three  family  tombs  with 
low,  slightly  crenellated  walls,  its  rows  of  name- 
less graves  scarcely  marked  by  a  fragment  of 
stone  at  the  head,  and  then  behind  the  cemetery 
the  ascent  begins. 

The  base  of  the  hill  is  set  in  a  sort  of 
moraine,  through  which  beds  of  bright  limestone 
appear  more  and  more  frequently  as  we  ascend  : 
they  soon  stand  right  out  and  form  a  sort  of 
vast  staircase,  the  steps  of  which  are  joined  by 
inclined  planes  of  debris  and  sand.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  ascent  the  quarrymen  have  lately 
brought  to  Ught  two  or  three  vaults,  rough, 
low-ceilinged,  narrow,  without  either  inscriptions 

46 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

or  sculpture,  furnished  with  loculi,  in  which  the 
mummies  formerly  lay :  violated  at  the  Roman 
epoch,  a  Greek  cross  drawn  in  red  on  the  wall 
at  the  back  proves  that  they  served  for  the 
retreat  of  Christian  hermits.  A  little  higher  up 
a  bed  of  Umestone  of  finer  quality  than  the  rest 
was  worked  in  ancient  times,  and  the  silhouette 
of  the  blocks,  as  well  as  the  marks  of  the  chisels 
that  cut  them  out,  are  everywhere  clearly 
defined.  Higher  up  still,  a  mass  of  rock  stands 
out,  and  forms  a  spur  surmounted  by  two  or 
three  peaks  of  fantastic,  broken,  jagged  shape, 
and  so  worn  away  at  the  base  that  they 
are  right  out  of  the  perpendicular,  and  we 
expect  to  see  them  collapse  every  moment. 
To  avoid  them  the  path  slants  towards  the 
north,  and  then  ascends  in  zigzag  the  long 
side  of  the  hill  for  about  five  or  six  hundred 
yards  before  reaching  the  edge  of  the  plateau. 
The  slope  is  steep,  the  heat,  intensified  by 
the  limestone  wall  by  the  side  of  which  we 
walked,  envelops  us  and  slowly  bakes  us ;  near 
the  summit  at  the  last  turn  a  fresh  breeze 
strikes  our  faces,  and  an  immense  pano- 
rama is  suddenly  displayed  at  our  feet — the 
green  and  yellow  plain,  the  villages  hidden 
among  the  palms,  the  Nile  winding  in  large 
curves,   the    water  whipped    into    frothy    waves 

47 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

by  the  wind,  the  towns  on  the  other  bank — 
Manfalout,  El-Hawatka,  KawaU — white  and  grey 
round  their  minarets ;  then  in  the  extreme 
distance  the  hill  of  Siout  projects  its  profile, 
deUcately  tinted  with  pink  and  Ulac,  on  to  the 
horizon.  Innumerable  sounds  rise  up  to  us :  the 
song  of  the  workman  manipulating  his  chadouf^ 
the  greeting  of  a  couple  of  passers-by  who  meet 
on  the  canal  quay,  the  bleating  of  sheep,  the 
laughter  of  a  band  of  women  who  have  come  to 
draw  water,  the  shrill  whistle  of  a  tug  desperately 
panting  with  a  convoy  of  sugar-canes.  The 
atmosphere  of  Egypt,  which  causes  every  object 
to  stand  out  in  sharp  outHne,  does  not  allow  of 
the  mingling  of  sounds  any  more  than  it  does 
of  the  various  parts  of  the  landscape.  It  gives 
each  sound  its  full  value,  and  if  it  somewhat 
tones  down  the  discords,  it  never  brings  them 
into  the  harmony  that  country  sounds  in  Europe 
acquire  in  summer-time. 

A  short  gaUop  to  the  right,  and  in  two  minutes 
the  whole  of  the  view  opening  on  to  the  valley  is 
again  shut  out  by  a  screen  of  rock.  The  plateau 
unrolls  itself  before  us  in  slow  and  supple  rhythmi- 
cal movements  which  melt  insensibly  on  the  east 
into  the  mass  of  the  Arabian  hills.  Everywhere 
the  ground  sparkles  and  shines  as  if  it  was  crystal 
or  salt :  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  only  talc  in  small 

48 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

pieces,  the  waste  of  a  quarry  formerly  worked  by 
the  Egyptians,  and  that  they  thought  to  be  ex- 
hausted, but  where  modern  industry  would  perhaps 
still  find  large  suppUes.  The  path  slants  across  this 
carpet  of  luminous  dust,  winding  over  the  slope  at 
its  own  sweet  will  without  seeming  to  bring  us  any 
nearer  to  our  goal.  But  at  last,  after  half  an  hour, 
our  guide  shows  us  a  cleft,  the  shape  of  which  is 
defined  on  the  rock  as  a  triangle.  It  is  from  9 
to  12  feet  long,  and  almost  half-closed  up  by  a 
block  of  stone  thrown  across  it  on  the  side  of  the 
base.  Ignorant  of  the  real  entrance,  that  is  the 
way  to  get  into  the  Crocodile  Grotto.  Most 
tourists  just  glance  at  the  opening  and  depart : 
only  archaeologists  persist,  although  even  for  them 
the  interest  of  the  visit  scarcely  compensates  for 
the  fatigue  it  engenders.  We  catch  on  to  the 
rough  places,  placing  a  foot  here  and  a  foot  there, 
for  a  depth  of  12  to  15  feet,  and  at  first  encounter 
the  sickening  odour  of  damp  mummy  that  has 
slowly  fermented.  At  the  back,  towards  the  left, 
under  the  transverse  block  there  is  a  smoky  vent- 
hole  into  which  the  guide  had  already  thrown 
himself,  candle  in  hand.  It  is  a  veritable  fox-hole 
which  widens  out  and  narrows  again  at  every 
turn,  sometimes  scarcely  3  feet  high,  sometimes 
so  narrow  that  stout  travellers  can  only  just  slip 
through  with  a  somewhat  severe  rubbing.     You 

49  D 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

have  to  make  your  way  as  best  you  can :  on  your 
knees,  or  your  side,  or  your  back,  or  your  stomach, 
crawling,  twisting,  sliding  to  right  and  left.  The 
bad  smell  increases ;  the  air  is  rarefied  and  seems 
sticky,  so  impregnated  is  it  with  dust  of  pitch 
or  bitumen ;  the  heat  is  insufferable :  it  takes  five 
minutes,  and  they  seem  interminable,  to  reach 
the  first  gallery  of  the  hypogeum. 

It  is  neither  spacious  nor  sweet-smelling,  but  we 
can  at  least  stand  upright  and  move  without  knock- 
ing our  heads  against  the  ceiling.  It  adjoins  other 
galleries,  the  windings  and  entwinings  of  which 
form  as  tangled  a  maze  as  that  of  the  Catacombs 
of  Rome.  The  Arabs  tell  fearsome  tales  o  tourists 
who,  venturing  in  alone,  were  never  able  to  regain 
the  entrance,  and  died  of  thirst  or  exhaustion. 
They  believe  the  grotto  to  be  haunted  by  ghouls 
or  afrites,  for  whom  the  flesh  and  blood  of  a 
European  are  an  unparalleled  feast,  and  they 
firmly  believe  that  the  lost  travellers  were  eaten 
alive  by  that  cursed  brood  of  God  and  His  Prophet. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  get  them  to  describe  the 
creatures  on  the  actual  scene  of  their  exploits,  but 
if  we  ventured  to  approach  the  subject  our  guides 
would  be  capable  of  running  away  on  the  spot  and 
leaving  us  to  shift  for  ourselves.  Once  inside  the 
labyrinth,  the  ghouls  prowl  round  us,  seeking  whom 
to  devour,  and  merely  to  utter  their  name  would 

50 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

be  to  incite  them  to  attack  us.  We  proceed  then 
in  silence,  examining  the  place  as  well  as  the  dim 
light  of  our  candles  allows.  On  my  first  visit, 
twenty  years  ago,'  crocodile  mummies  abounded, 
not  only  the  giant  crocodiles  that  are  to  be  seen  in 
the  necropolises  of  the  Fayoum  or  of  Kom-Ombo, 
but  young  crocodiles  who  died  a  few  days  or  a  few 
hours  after  their  birth.  They  were  buried  singly 
or  in  bundles,  and  then  piled  up  so  as  entirely  to 
fill  the  secondary  corridors.  Indeed,  the  grave- 
diggers  scarcely  preserved  a  track  in  the  principal 
galleries,  in  order  to  make  it  possible  to  inspect 
the  condition  of  the  mummies.  Now  and  again 
we  came  upon  a  few  human  mummies,  those  of 
the  priests  of  the  god  Sovkou  and  of  the  faithful 
who  had  specially  consecrated  themselves  to  him. 
They  had  to  pay  dear  for  the  privilege  of  lying 
for  ever  among  the  incarnations  of  their  mystic 
patron.  What  gave  them  all,  men  or  beasts,  a 
special  value,  is  that  they  were  often  covered  with 
papyri,  notarial  acts,  private  letters,  receipts,  dis- 
charges, circulars,  administrative  circulars,  and 
also  torn  or  odd  volumes  of  the  Greek  classical 
writers.  Mr.  Harris  owed  to  them,  sixty  years 
ago,  fragments  of  Homer,  and  leaves  of  a  manu- 
script containing  the  lost  orations  of  Hyperides, 
the  Athenian.  Is  there  not  a  chance  of  finding 
*  This  was  written  in  1903. 
51 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

more  important  works  still,  those  of  Sappho  or 
Aleman?  About  1890,  Arab  excavators,  en- 
couraged by  the  European  scholars,  surreptitiously 
made  their  way  into  the  grotto  and  damaged  what 
had  escaped  the  injury  of  centuries.  They  ripped 
up  the  large  mummies  and  crushed  the  small  ones. 
One  day,  in  the  midst  of  their  operations,  two  of 
them  upset  one  of  the  wretched  petroleum  lamps 
they  are  accustomed  to  use  to  light  themselves 
over  the  debris.  We  can  imagine  with  what 
swiftness  the  fire  would  spread  in  that  heap  of 
rags  and  organic  matter  saturated  with  natron  and 
pitch.  Legend  has  it  that  a  long  while  ago  an 
EngUshman  and  his  dragoman  perished  in  the 
flames  caused  by  his  carelessness,  and  the  men 
accompanying  me  declare  that  two  Bedouins  met 
a  similar  fate.  Whether  the  tale  be  true  or  not, 
there  are  lying  about  everywhere  fragments  of 
linen  scorched,  or  reduced  to  tinder,  carbonised 
mummies,  calcined  bones.  The  ceiUng  and  the 
side  walls  are  covered  with  a  kind  of  greasy  soot 
which  sometimes  falls  and  shrivels  up  in  the  flame 
of  our  candles.  The  guide  assures  us  that  he 
knows  the  whereabouts  of  the  real  door,  the  door 
through  which  the  Egyptians  took  the  corpses, 
but  the  debris  that  has  been  heaped  up  against  it 
{oruis  so  thick  a  covering  that  it  would  cost  a  mint 
of  money  to  remove  it,  more  money  certainly  than 

52 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

it  was  worth.  He  suggests  taking  us  to  it,  but 
the  indecision  of  his  manner  proves  to  us  that  he 
does  not  much  Hke  the  job.  Later,  when  we  shall 
have  returned  to  the  upper  air,  he  will  declare  that 
some  sort  of  unnameable  thing  had  stirred  behind 
us  in  the  darkness,  doubtless  an  evil  spirit  animated 
by  the  worst  intentions.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
he  demonstrated  to  us  that  it  was  far  off,  very  far, 
and  that  our  three  candles  were  half  consumed. 
It  was  a  good  reason,  and  besides,  we  had  seen 
enough  to  be  assured  that  archaeology  had  little  to 
hope  from  so  devastated  a  site.  We  found  our 
way  out  then  on  all-fours.  A  little  light  filters 
under  the  rock,  there  is  the  opening  of  the  vent- 
hole,  the  cleft,  a  triangle  of  blue  sky  above  our 
heads,  then  the  full  light  of  day.  We  are  tugged 
and  pulled  on  to  the  platform,  winking  our  eyes 
like  owls,  but,  all  said  and  done,  delighted  with 
our  expedition  to  the  crocodiles. 

It  is  pleasant  to  see  the  sun  again  and  to 
breathe  freely  the  wholesome  north  wind,  but  it 
is  unexpected  and  flattering  to  receive  military 
honours  on  coming  out  of  a  mummy-hole.  While 
we  were  exploring  the  grotto  the  older  of  the 
two  omdehs  who  divide  the  government  of 
Maabdeh,  learning  that  the  Director  of  the  Service 
des  Antiquites  was  visiting  the  place  incognito^ 
had    sent    the    local    armed    force    with    mani- 

53 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

fold  excuses  for  the  rheumatism  which  prevented 
him  from  coming  himself  It  consisted  of  six 
ghafirs  in  blue  shirts,  black  caps  with  red  bands, 
and  carrying  percussion  guns.  Salutations,  pre- 
sentation of  arms,  and  we  are  forced  to  make  a 
dignified  descent  into  the  plain,  not  like  simple 
travellers  free  in  their  movements,  but  like  dis- 
tinguished persons  hemmed  in  by  the  most  rigorous 
etiquette.  The  omdeh  awaited  us  at  his  house  to 
offer  us  the  traditional  coffee,  and  to  refuse  his 
invitation  would  wound  him.  He  Uves  in  the 
largest  of  the  new  houses  we  had  admired  in 
passing  in  the  morning.  The  doorway,  hidden  in 
the  south-west  comer  of  the  outer  wall,  took  us 
into  a  corridor  running  between  two  blind  walls ; 
at  the  end  towards  the  left  a  bay  was  cut  in  it, 
through  which  we  reached  the  court  of  honour. 
The  house  itself  has  a  verandah  in  front,  the  steps  up 
to  it  being  framed  between  two  bronze  candelabra. 
It  is  arranged  on  the  usual  plan  with  a  vestibule 
lighted  by  stained-glass  windows,  a  drawing-room 
furnished  with  divans,  and  behind,  a  reception-room 
furnished  in  the  European  fashion.  Before  return- 
ing to  his  native  village  our  host  had  lived  for 
some  years  in  Cairo,  where  he  filled  a  small  post 
in  a  Government  office.  He  brought  back  cour- 
teous manners  and  a  flowery  language,  which  con- 
trast with  the  rusticity  of  his  surroundings.     He 

54 


The  Crocodile  Grotto  at  Maabdeh 

possesses  I  do  not  know  how  many  feddans  of 
good  land  between  Maabdeh  and  Abnoub,  and 
although  not  as  profitable  as  he  could  wish,  he  is 
not  on  the  whole  dissatisfied.  While  we  drink  his 
coffee,  smacking  our  lips  out  of  politeness,  he 
informs  us  that  despite  the  poorness  of  the  inunda- 
tion the  year  has  not  been  altogether  a  bad  one. 
His  cows  and  ewes  were  fruitful,  his  daughters-in- 
law  presented  him  with  three  fine  boys  a  few 
weeks  back,  and  no  member  of  the  family  has 
fallen  a  victim  to  cholera.  His  house  is  warm  in 
winter,  cool  in  summer,  and  now  that  we  have 
honoured  him  with  our  visit  misfortune  will  not 
dare  to  touch  it  and  prosperity  will  dwell  there 
for  all  time. 


55 


V 

A  CAB  DRIVE  IN  SIOUT 

Formerly  to  reach  Siout  you  landed  at  the  hamlet 
of  El  Hamra.  There  was  nothing  to  distinguish 
El  Hamra  from  all  the  numerous  villages  hitherto 
encountered :  the  port  was  merely  the  dike,  more 
or  less  worn  down  by  the  coming  and  going  of 
the  crowd,  but  bigger  craft  than  almost  anywhere 
else  were  moored  there,  pleasure  dahabiehs  await- 
ing their  hirers  for  the  season,  two  or  three 
steamers,  coal  barges,  the  post  boats,  and  work- 
ing alone  in  its  corner  was  the  indefatigable 
dredging  machine  of  the  Ibrahimieh  Canal.  The 
river  had  its  caprices,  sometimes  hugging  the 
banks,  sometimes  throwing  up  heaps  of  sand  at 
their  base,  and  so  separating  the  banks  from  the 
boatmen.  From  1883  to  1885  this  improvised 
shore  was  two  or  three  hundred  yards  wide,  but 
the  inundation  of  1885  swept  it  away  at  one  stroke 
and  brought  back  the  traffic  to  the  bank.  A  good 
road,  shady  and  winding,  led  the  traveller  first  to 
the  post-office,  then  to  the  railway  station,  and 

56 


A  Cab  Drive  in  Siout 

thence  to  the  town.  It  ended  with  a  bridge  over 
the  winding  canal  which  surrounded  Siout,  and 
those  who  know  the  Egypt  of  those  days  by  means 
of  photographs  will  have  admired  the  pretty 
picture  it  offered :  its  houses  and  gardens  reflected 
in  the  still  waters  of  the  canal,  the  bridge  with  its 
unequal  arches,  the  group  of  thick  sycamores  which 
shaded  the  gateway  of  the  Moudirieh,  the  Mou- 
dirieh  itself  with  its  oblong  courtyard  planted  with 
trees,  the  clerks  running  from  office  to  office,  papers 
in  hand  and  pen  behind  the  ear,  and  the  mot- 
ley crowd  which  went  its  way  unmindful  of  the 
administrative  work.  But  all  that  is  of  the  past. 
The  enlargement  of  the  Ibrahimieh  Canal,  the 
building  of  the  dike,  and  the  displacement  of  the 
mud  that  has  resulted,  have  all  been  fatal  to  the 
old  port;  small  boats  still  use  it,  but  the  vessels 
of  the  na\dgation  companies,  the  coal  barges,  the 
post  boats,  the  dahabiehs — all  that  made  the  life 
of  El  Hamra — have  been  transported  to  the  other 
extremity  of  the  roadstead,  to  the  south-east  point 
almost  opposite  El  Ouastah.i 

The  first  thing  we  notice  in  getting  alongside 
are  the  cabs  prowling  about  round  the  landing- 

*  The  above  was  written  in  1899.  But  since  the  comple- 
tion of  the  barrage  in  1902  the  traffic  has  gone  back  towards 
the  north  and  is  now  at  nearly  the  same  point  as  it  was 
thirty  years  ago. 

57 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

places.  They  are  the  little  Parisian  victorias  with 
movable  hood,  leathern  apron,  and  flap-seat  at  the 
back,  two  lean  horses,  and  a  numbered  driver; 
the  price  of  the  drive  is  3  francs  75  centimes,  if  we 
are  satisfied  to  keep  to  the  town ;  5  francs  if  we 
venture  among  the  hills  to  visit  the  tombs. 
Donkey-boys  still  abound,  pushing  and  shouting, 
but  they  no  longer  assume  the  haughty  insolence 
of  a  former  day ;  they  feel  that  their  reign  is  end- 
ing, and  they  are  humble  in  the  hope  of  carrying  off 
a  customer  despite  the  competition.  But  usually 
nothing  comes  of  their  efforts  at  civility.  A  cab 
is  called,  four  people  crowd  into  it,  holding  on  as 
best  they  can,  and  the  equipage  sets  out  by  the 
grace  of  God.  At  first  you  drive  by  the  river 
along  the  towing-path  between  the  edge  of  a  field 
of  ragged  dourah  and  the  sloping  embankment. 
There  is  a  prospect  of  a  fall  of  6  or  9  feet  at 
every  jerk  made  by  the  horses,  and  for  ten  minutes 
the  carriage  rolls,  pitches,  jumps  over  the  irrigation 
posts  and  trenches,  has  a  narrow  escape  of  losing  a 
back  wheel,  heels  over,  is  about  to  upset,  when  by 
the  grace  of  the  unknown  saint  who  presides  over 
the  safety  of  cabs  in  Egypt,  it  escapes  for  that 
time.  After  five  or  six  minutes  of  this  preliminary 
exercise  we  turn  to  the  left  and  proceed  towards 
the  town  at  a  trot  through  the  boatmen's  quarter, 
a  row  of  houses  in  process  of  building,  two  or  three 

58 


A  Cab  Drive  in  Siout 

bacals  piled  up  with  preserves,  petroleum,  and 
cotton  goods,  a  Sudanese  bar  dripping  with  raki 
and  adulterated  spirits,  painted,  unveiled  women 
in  loud-coloured  garments,  an  open-air  cookshop 
where  stews  of  doubtful  appearance  simmer  with  a 
seasoning  of  dust.  Next  comes  an  empty  space,  the 
haunt  of  wandering  dogs  and  hens,  then  a  wealthy- 
suburb  with  blue,  pink,  apple-green,  or  yellow 
villas  inhabited  chiefly  by  Copts,  gardens,  cafes, 
restaurants,  hotels  with  French,  Greek,  or  Italian 
names,  and  at  last  the  railway.  Two  goods  trains 
are  manoeuvring  on  a  siding  by  a  caravan  of  camels 
loaded  with  sugar-canes,  and  the  5.55  train  for 
Minieh  whistles  loudly  as  it  departs. 

Beyond  there  are  more  villas,  more  restaurants, 
more  hotels,  and  of  a  sudden  we  come  on  the 
entry  to  Old  Siout,  disfigured  by  European  em- 
bellishments. One  side  of  the  canal  is  dry,  the 
gateway  of  the  Moudirieh  has  been  pulled  down 
to  make  way  for  the  traffic,  but  the  courtyard 
remains  as  before,  and  the  town  has  changed  very 
little.  The  sloping  street  that  fits  on,  as  it  were, 
to  the  back  of  the  Moudirieh  is  exactly  as  I 
knew  it  in  1881,  and  if  the  alleys  to  the  left 
in  the  direction  of  the  hill  have  been  widened, 
the  new  buildings  are  in  the  usual  Arab  style  and 
do  not  clash  with  the  old  ones.  The  carriage 
scarcely  lessens  its  pace  when   driving   through 

59 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

them,  but  the  crowd,  as  distrustful  as  that  of 
Cairo  in  regard  to  the  talents  of  the  drivers, 
keeps  well  out  of  our  way.  A  sudden  turn  and 
we  are  in  the  market-place,  still  crowded  with  men 
and  beasts,  and  then  the  curved  jetty  by  which  the 
tombs  are  approached,  the  bridge  partly  built  on 
the  piles  of  the  Mamelouk  Bridge,  known  to  the 
soldiers  of  Desaix  and  the  scholars  of  the  Com- 
mission ;  there  on  the  right  beyond  the  canal  the 
palm-tree  and  cupolas  of  the  Musulman  cemetery, 
and  here — but  what  has  happened  to  the  hill  ?  A 
sort  of  grey  and  white  factory  is  fastened  to  it 
half-way  up,  the  slope  is  dotted  with  rubbish,  a 
big  iron  pipe,  partly  hidden  by  the  debris,  climbs 
it,  quarry  holes  are  to  be  seen  almost  everywhere, 
and  lime-kilns  smoke  at  the  base  on  the  road  to 
Dronkah.  The  Water  Company  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  it  and  has  formed  its  reservoirs  there.  The 
slaughter-house  has  been  installed  below  against 
the  first  modern  tombs.  The  ancient  tombs  have 
been  saved  from  the  contractors,  but  not  without 
difficulty ;  each  has  its  iron  railing,  its  number,  its 
door,  and  a  Bedouin,  also  numbered,  keeps  the 
keys  for  the  use  of  tourists. 

The  day  draws  to  a  close.  The  last  visitors  to 
the  cemetery  wend  their  way  back  to  the  town, 
and  with  them  the  bands  of  chained  convicts 
who  are  working  in  the  quarries  under  the  sur- 

60 


A  Cab  Drive  in  Siout 

veillance  of  a  squad  of  police.  The  traditional 
cannon-shot  has  just  announced  the  end  of  the 
fast  for  the  day.  The  streets  swarm  with  people, 
and  the  shopkeepers,  who  had  been  slightly  drowsy 
from  hunger  during  the  heavy  hours  of  the  after- 
noon, become  lively  again  before  closing  for  the 
night.  The  large  bazaar  has  preserved  its  original 
physiognomy,  and  perhaps  corresponds  better  than 
those  of  Cairo  to  the  idea  of  an  Oriental  market, 
since  it  has  so  little  of  the  European  or  Levantine 
element.  Wooden  planks,  as  formerly,  roof  in  the 
whole  length  of  the  principal  avenue  and  even 
some  of  the  by-streets.  It  used  to  be  a  matter  of 
some  difficulty  to  traverse  it  on  a  donkey,  and  you 
had  to  manage  the  beast  with  a  certain  skill  so  as 
not  to  upset  the  flat  baskets  which  encumbered 
the  path  to  right  and  left;  now,  however,  the 
drivers  rush  into  it  with  their  fares  as  if  it  was  a 
deserted  street.  It  is  true  they  go  at  a  walking 
pace,  and  the  shopkeepers  make  use  of  their  cir- 
cumspection to  ojfifer  their  wares  to  the  Europeans. 
One  man  addresses  himself  to  the  ladies  and  shakes 
out  before  them  veils  in  a  sort  of  black  net  em- 
broidered and  spangled  with  gold  or  copper,  silver 
or  nickel.  They  cost  a  mere  nothing,  a  couple 
of  guineas  each,  and  it  is  indeed  only  to  be 
agreeable  to  you  that  the  price  is  made  so  low; 
but  do  not  offer  him  20  francs  in   the   hope   of 

61 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

getting  rid  of  him  by  so  extravagant  a  discount ; 
he  would  end  by  taking  you  at  your  word 
and  would  gain  more  than  half  the  object's 
real  value.  Another  offers  fly-flaps  of  ivory  or 
ebony  incrusted  with  gold  or  silver  and  touched 
up  with  vermihon.  Yet  another  draws  your  at- 
tention to  the  beauty  of  the  vases  he  makes,  the 
pretty  vases  varnished  red  and  black,  most  of 
which  are  servile  copies  of  a  French  or  Viennese 
model  in  metal.  Still  the  carriage  manages  to 
push  its  way  along,  leaving  a  space  of  scarcely 
1  foot  8  inches  between  the  wheel  and  the  stalls, 
along  which  the  crowd  of  foot-passengers  make 
their  way  with  difficulty.  Now  and  again  a  man 
hemmed  in  in  his  booth  becomes  quietly  impatient, 
and  asks  them  in  a  low  voice  to  get  out  of  the 
way,  or  a  lounger  pinned  by  the  axle  kicks  out 
and  curses,  according  to  the  Arab  formula,  the 
father  of  the  tiresome  person  who  is  crushing  him. 
But  such  impatience  is  rare,  and  the  crowd,  ac- 
commodating itself  as  well  as  it  can  to  such 
hindrances,  takes  an  interest  in  the  discussions  of 
its  fellow-citizens  with  their  chance  customers. 
Think  of  some  idle  tourist  blocking  one  of  the 
business  thoroughfares  of  London  or  Paris  for  half 
an  hour,  and  then  imagine,  if  you  can,  the  temper 
of  the  tradesmen  who  inhabit  it. 


62 


^  w^t^ 

/-v    ,  ■■■■ 

1  '^'-'''J^HK 

I'-^H 

j^  ^^  JB^ 

R^M^^^^^^H|i 

JimtmMr       mMIKK^^^-Jsssa 

..Mm^^...^ 

VI 

ON  THE  NILE 

The  Nile  goes  and  comes  and  winds  in  immense 
curves  through  the  plain,  and  the  current,  rebound- 
ing from  one  side  to  the  other,  leaves  bare  a  sandy 
shore  on  the  bank  from  which  it  recedes  and  piti- 
lessly eats  its  way  into  the  bank  on  which  it 
encroaches.  The  bank  thus  continually  eaten 
away  is  perpetually  crumbling  under  the  strain; 
whole  fields  disappear  with  their  crops,  and  the 
villages  themselves  gradually  descend  to  the  river. 
The  palm-trees  defend  them  at  first,  and  keep  the 
earth  back  by  their  bearded  roots;  then  they  capsize 
and  fall  on  the  slope.  They  may  be  seen  hanging 
their  heads  in  the  water  for  some  time,  the  clod  of 
earth  in  the  air,  until  the  eddies  detach  them  and 
they  drift  away.  The  fellahs,  who  have  done 
nothing  to  save  the  trees,  are  as  little  careful 
to  protect  their  houses.  They  may  attempt  to 
shore  them  up  with  a  few  stones  after  the  earth 
has  already  fallen  away  under  them.  Then  as 
the  work  of  destruction  progresses  they  flee  from 

63 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

room  to  room  as  long  as  any  space  remains  which 
can  shelter  them  and  their  families.  When  at 
last  they  are  forced  to  leave,  their  recent  experi- 
ence does  not  teach  them  wisdom,  and  they  choose 
a  new  encampment  almost  as  exposed  as  the  former 
one.  The  land  is  granted  them  by  the  community, 
and  building  materials  cost  little  or  nothing. 
Interwoven  twigs  or  dried  bricks  covered  with 
mud  for  the  walls,  veins  of  the  palm-leaf  or  stems 
of  dourah  coated  with  mud  for  the  roof, 
one  or  two  low  rooms,  an  airless  courtyard  in- 
habited by  poultry  and  cattle,  a  fireplace  of  flat 
stones,  straw  mats,  one  of  two  wooden  chests, 
water-jars,  some  coarse  pottery,  are  all  they  need. 
A  family  of  fellahs  can  move  house  once  or  twice 
a  year  at  a  cost  of  little  more  than  ten  days'  work, 
and  in  thus  dispossessing  them  every  season  the 
Nile  causes  them  little  material  damage.  Increase 
of  wealth,  however,  is  beginning  to  awaken  them 
from  their  hereditary  apathy,  and  as  soon  as  they 
have  earned  enough  money  to  obtain  a  suitable 
house,  like  those  they  would  have  in  the  towns, 
they  try  to  combat  the  fantasies  of  the  river,  and 
occasionally  succeed  in  repressing  them  for  a  brief 
space,  but  without  entirely  disarming  them.  So 
far  as  we  observed,  the  river  ended  by  baffling 
their  attempts,  and  in  spite  of  the  embanking 
the  spot  chosen  succumbs  sooner  or  later. 

64 


On  the  Nile 

Abnoub  is  a  large  town  of  the  Arabian  plain  in 
the  bend  of  one  of  the  "  seven  turns  "  made  by  the 
Nile  between  Gebel-Abou-Feda  and  Siout.  It 
formerly  consisted  of  a  number  of  cabins  grouped 
round  two  or  three  white  ill-kept  houses,  and  like 
many  villages  of  the  Said  concealed  its  wealth 
under  a  dilapidated  and  poor  exterior.  Five  or  six 
years  ago  a  few  Copts  and  Europeans  built  less 
rudimentary  habitations.  The  natives,  instigated 
by  their  example,  demolished  their  cabins,  and 
replaced  them  by  dwellings  more  in  keeping  with 
their  fortunes.  The  Abnoub  of  to-day  may  be 
recognised  in  the  distance,  towards  the  north,  by  a 
dozen  villas  built  along  the  bank,  the  aspect  and 
colour  of  which  recall  the  Pharaonic  villas  repre- 
sented in  the  paintings  of  the  Theban  tombs; 
we  might  say  that  one  of  them  had  been  copied 
straight  on  to  a  celebrated  fresco  in  the  tomb 
of  Anna,  with  its  cubical  shape,  flat  roof,  facade 
pierced  by  a  single  narrow  door  on  the  ground 
floor  and  two  small  windows  on  the  first  floor, 
its  long  wall,  broken  by  three  doors  painted  red, 
the  top  bristling  with  a  row  of  branches,  and  its 
garden  of  palms,  doums,  and  acacias.  Beyond  is 
a  sort  of  irregular  square  shaded  by  nabecas  and 
sycamores,  then  the  bulk  of  the  buildings,  some 
just  begun,  others  nearly  finished,  and  dominating 
all  three  Turkish  pavilions,  the  first  dark  red,  the 

65  E 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

second  grey,  the  third  in  two  tones  of  blue,  the 
walls   framed  in  red  moucharabiehs,  and  a  glass 
roof  to  light  the   drawing-room.     At   their   foot, 
cone-shaped  heaps  of  debris  are  spread  over  the 
bank  at  the  spot  where  the  Nile  encroaches.     The 
water    has    not    only    undermined    the    ordinary 
buildings  in  clay  or  dried  bricks :  it  has  attacked 
edifices  of  burnt    bricks    and    ashlar,    the    deep 
foundations  of  which  seemed  to   defy  its   power, 
and   has  dismantled  the   greater  part   of   them. 
Some  portions  of  the  wall  have  subsided  whole, 
and    only    partly    emerge    from    the    water,    or 
partly  hang   over  it.     A  fragment  of  a   solitary 
alley  may  be   recognised  in  passing   through  the 
bay  of  a  door,  which  is  all  that  remains   of  the 
building  to  which  it  belonged.     A  disembowelled 
hotel  shows  its  inner  court  bordered  by  two  semi- 
circular rows  of  arcades.     Chickens  peck  about  the 
ruins,  long,  lean   pigs    explore   them   with    their 
snouts  in  quest  of  problematical  food  ;  the  children 
make  a  playground  of  them,  and  the  neighbouring 
inhabitants  meet  there  to  look  at  the  passing  boat, 
or  to  discuss  the  quality  of  the  foreigners  aboard  it. 
And  everywhere,  on  the  right  as  on  the  left, 
from  Siout  to  Keneh,  there  is  scarcely  a  town  or 
a  riverside  hamlet  that  has  not  suiFered  more  or 
less  from  the  rapacity  of   the  stream.      It   has 
swallowed    up    the    portico    of    the    temple    of 

66 


On  the  Nile 

Antseus,   at   Gaou-el-Kebir,   half  of  the  Mosque 
of  Tiles   at  Girgeh,   farms,  sakiehs,  fire-engines, 
factories  and  their  surroundings.     It  has  under- 
mined the  steep  Tell  of  Heou,  under  which  the 
ruins  of  DiospoUs  Parva  have  slept  for  centuries, 
and  if  precautions  had  not  been  taken  would  have 
utterly  destroyed  them.      About  1884  it  was  at 
least  a  hundred  yards   off,  and  we  might  have 
sworn  that  it  would  never  touch  them,  but  the 
fellahs  helped  to  prepare  the  catastrophe.     They 
exploited  the  heaps  of  nitreous  dust,  the  sebakh 
with  which  they  manure  their  fields,  and  thus 
lowered  the  level  of  the  land  in  every  sense.     The 
water  rushes   in   through  the  breaches   and  the 
trenches  they  cut,  and  so,  wearing  away  the  mass, 
carries  off    large   slices  from  year  to  year.      A 
mosque  erected  under  one  of  the  last  Mamelouk 
Sultans  stands  almost  intact,  near  scattered  blocks 
of   stone  which   mark   the  site  of  a   Ptolemaic 
temple.     One  fine  day  the  portion  bathed  by  the 
river    subsided;     the    minaret    stands    firm    and 
straight,  having    lost    nothing   except  its    white 
coating,  but  the  north  wall    has   collapsed,   the 
courtyard  gapes  open,  and  the  condition  of  the 
arches  which  adorn  the  back  and  sides  proclaims 
a  speedy   catastrophe.      Nevertheless  the  fellahs 
continue    their   evil    practices,    and    even    while 
lamenting  the  misfortune  that  has  attacked  their 

67 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

most  venerated  sanctuary,  hasten,  by  their  im- 
prudence, the  moment  of  its  complete  destruction. 
They  supply  the  whole  province  with  sebakh  from 
it ;  when  passing  Heou  you  invariably  see  a  dozen 
barges  loaded  or  in  process  of  loading. 

Is  there  less  life  on  the  Nile  than  formerly  ?  ^ 
In  Middle  Egypt,  between  Cairo  and  Siout,  the 
sugar  refineries  keep  up  a  considerable  stream  of 
navigation.  At  intervals  we  meet  the  long 
strings  of  boats  which  lend  the  Nile  so 
picturesque  an  aspect,  boats  with  two  or  three 
masts  sailing  proudly  on  their  way  with  their 
lateen  sails ;  smaller  boats  that  swaggeringly 
carry  their  one  sail  horizontally  across  the  mast ; 
barges  with  grain  or  forage,  barges  with  cut  straw 
which  look  from  the  distance  like  floating  mill- 
stones, barges  with  reddish  jars  or  porous  vases, 
the  %ir  and  the  goulleh  which  will  filter  and 
keep  fresh  the  water  of  the  inhabitants  of  Cairo. 
Tugs  go  up  and  down  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
factories  with  their  interminable  chain  of  laden 
or  empty  barges,  and  at  least  in  the  sugar-cane 
season  there  is  a  perpetual  noise  of  steam  whistles 
and  paddle-wheels. 

South  of  Siout  the  noise  subsides.  The  post  boats 

break  the  silence  for  about  an  hour  at  fixed  times, 

and  in  winter  so  do  Cook's  steamers  or  those  of 

*  This  was  written  in  1899. 

68 


On  the  Nile 

rival  companies.  But  once  they  have  gone  round 
the  next  bend  solitude  reigns  again  for  whole 
days,  scarcely  disturbed  by  the  passage  of  a  few 
isolated  boats  or  by  the  evolutions  of  local 
haulers  and  fishermen.  Much  merchandise  that 
was  formerly  transported  by  water  is  now  sent  to 
Cairo  by  train,  and  the  greater  number  of  tourists 
prefer  to  take  the  railway  to  Louxor  and  the 
Cataracts.  They  do  not  abound  ;  the  plague  at 
Alexandria  and  the  war  have  frightened  off  a  good 
many,  and  those  who  decided  to  go,  did  so  with 
a  certain  amount  of  anxiety  on  account  of  the 
rapid  fall  of  the  river.  But  to  tell  the  truth, 
when  they  first  saw  the  breadth  and  strength  of 
its  current,  they  could  not  help  thinking  that 
people  were  making  fun  of  them  in  telling  them 
that  the  rise  of  the  Nile  was  slight  this  year. 
The  water  spreads  before  their  eyes  from  800  to 
1,200  yards  in  width,  more  like  a  lake  than  a 
river.  How  is  it  possible  to  imagine  that  it  is 
not  sufficient  to  allow  of  navigation  ? 

The  experience  of  a  day  or  two  soon  shows 
them  the  truth  of  things.  Long  ridges  of  sand 
stretch  everywhere  across  the  immense  bed,  some 
still  hidden,  but  betraying  their  existence  by  a 
slight  trembling  on  the  surface  of  the  water; 
others  emerge  only  to  the  extent  of  a  fbw  inches, 
others  are  already  several  feet  in  height,  and  form 

69 


.•a%frroc:iTY 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

an  archipelago  of  little  islands,  curiously  indented, 
where  all  the  water-fowl  of  the  Nile  seem  to  have 
congregated.  Cormorants,  plovers,  blue  and  ash- 
coloured  herons,  cranes,  pelicans,  storks,  ducks  of 
variegated  plumage,  are  at  work  fishing,  or  arrange 
themselves  in  long  rows  on  the  sandy  shore  medi- 
tating, and  digesting  their  food.  If  some  tiresome 
creature  disturbs  them,  they  fly  off  at  one  sweep 
by  the  order  of  their  leader,  to  take  up  their 
position  somewhere  else  and  continue  their  medi- 
tations. The  stream  winds  capriciously  between 
the  visible  and  invisible  sandbanks,  in  places  so 
narrow  and  following  such  sudden  turns  that  a 
medium-sized  boat  can  only  manoeuvre  with 
precaution,  and  so  shallow  that  to  get  through  it 
the  vessel  should  not  draw  more  than  about  3  feet 
of  water.  The  pilot  is  in  front,  his  eye  ready  to 
seize  the  least  sign — a  change  of  colour,  a  rippUng, 
a  wrinkle  imperceptible  to  all  but  him — and,  his 
long  staff,  the  medreh,  in  his  hand,  he  goes  on 
taking  soundings  every  moment.  He  transmits 
his  orders  to  the  steersman  by  word  and  gesture, 
and  it  is  only  the  complete  accord  of  the  two  men 
that  prevents  accidents  in  the  most  dangerous 
places.  The  first  time  of  running  aground  seldom 
annoys  the  tourist ;  indeed,  he  nearly  always  finds 
the  novelty  of  the  situation  and  the  confusion 
attendant  on  the  extrication  amusing.     At  the 

70 


On  the  Nile 

first  shock  the  crew  seize  the  medrehs  and 
plant  the  iron  points  firmly  in  the  gravel, 
and  with  the  other  end  against  their  shoulders, 
put  forth  all  their  strength.  As  no  one  in 
Egypt  works  in  silence,  and  the  boatmen  less 
than  others,  invocations  burst  forth  to  God, 
to  the  Prophet,  to  local  and  general  saints, 
"  Allah  !  Houa  I  la  Mohammad  !  la  Ahmad  1 
la  Embahi !  la  Abbasi  1 "  and,  interspersed  with 
the  everlasting  '' Hele,  hele,''  keep  time  to  their 
movements.  If  the  effort  comes  to  nothing,  the 
felucca  stands  off,  the  anchor  is  dropped,  they  pull 
upon  it,  and  in  so  pulling  drag  big  steamers  over 
the  gravel  or  mud  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more. 
When  the  operation  only  lasts  an  hour  or  two 
interest  does  not  flag,  and  the  tourist  sets  out 
again,  dehghted  to  have  taken  part  in  one  of  the 
accidents  of  life  on  the  Nile.  But  sometimes, 
if  recourse  is  not  had  to  the  strongest  measures, 
a  boat  may  be  aground  for  six  hours,  or  ten  or 
twelve  or  twenty-four  hours,  or  even  for  whole 
months,  until  the  inundation  of  the  river.  The 
captain  lands  and  goes  to  the  nearest  village  to 
ask  the  notables,  the  omdeh  or  the  cheikh-el- 
beled,  to  supply  him  with  reinforcements.  It  is  a 
compulsory  service  which  is  occasionally  paid  for, 
but  more  often  taken  gratuitously.  All  the 
fellahs  available   throw  themselves  into  the  river, 

71 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

pulling  at  the  rope,  stiffening  their  arms,  bending 
double,  and  raise  the  boat,  move  it,  lead  it  into 
deep  water.  You  soon  grow  tired  of  running 
aground,  and  when  the  accident  occurs  the  Arab 
vocabulary  does  not  contain  enough  bad  language 
in  which  to  curse  the  pilot's  and  helmsman's  lack  of 
skill,  and  then,  as  there  are  no  more  oaths  available, 
you  grow  tired  of  your  own  wrath  and  determine 
philosophically  to  get  what  profit  you  can  from 
the  accident.  It  is  not  so  bad  after  aU  if  it 
happens  at  a  fine  spot,  and  I  have  only  to  be 
thankful  for  the  accident  that  grounded  me  several 
times  at  the  foot  of  Gebel-Abou-Feda.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  only  consolation  is  the  view 
of  a  sandy  shore  and  a  horizon  bounded  by  dikes 
enlivened  with  telegraph  poles,  it  is  a  good 
moment  for  dealing  with  arrears  of  correspon- 
dence and  urgent  business,  the  settlement  of 
which  had  been  deferred  through  the  attractive- 
ness of  the  river  banks. 

But  what  is  merely  an  annoyance  for  the  tra- 
veller threatens  to  become  a  calamity  for  the 
native.  The  Nile  is  as  low  this  year'  at  the  end 
of  December  as  in  ordinary  years  at  the  end  of 
April,  and  the  faU,  far  from  lessening  as  we 
might  hope,  goes  regularly  on,  or  even  at  moments 
increases;  a  few  weeks  more  and  the  river  will 
'  This  was  written  in  1899. 
72 


On  the  Nile 

be  fordable  in  more  than  one  place.  The  news 
from  the  interior  is  very  bad.  There  has  been 
less  snow  and  rain  in  Abyssinia  and  the  region 
of  the  Equator,  and  the  reservoirs  that  feed  the 
river  were  not  sufficiently  filled  last  year.  The 
Blue  Nile  is  at  the  end  of  its  resources,  the  White 
Nile  is  falling  more  and  more,  and  the  vast  basin 
of  the  Victoria  Nyanza  is  3  feet  below  its 
customary  level.  Two-thirds  of  the  Said  have 
not  been  irrigated,  and  will  produce  nothing  before 
the  return  of  the  inundation.  Near  Akhmim  the 
French  engine  has  procured  the  watering  of  the 
fields  situated  round  the  town,  but  in  spite  of  the 
incessant  action  of  the  chadouf  the  rest  of  the 
district  is  fallow.  What  ought  to  be  immense 
tracts  of  young  corn  or  beans  in  flower  are  only 
dry  mounds.  Between  Bellianeh  and  Abydos  the 
plain,  which  usually  resembles  that  of  Normandy  in 
its  fertility  and  its  rich  crops,  is  now  languishing 
and  promises  only  a  meagre  harvest  in  those  places 
where  it  is  not  wholly  barren.  Beyond  Bellianeh 
the  banks  to  right  and  left  are  covered  with  vegeta- 
tion, but  as  soon  as  they  are  left  behind  it  ceases, 
and  as  far  as  the  beginning  of  the  desert  only 
the  bare  ground,  dusty  in  the  sun,  is  to  be  seen. 
Persons  in  high  places  grow  anxious,  and  actively 
seek  means  of  obviating  the  consequences  of  the 
drought.     Engineers  are  busy  storing  up  water, 

73 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

financiers  are  trying  to  reduce  taxation  for 
the  worst  sufferers,  without  compromising  the 
Budget,  and  the  exemption  from  taxation  of 
land  that  has  had  to  remain  uncultivated  is 
imder  discussion.  The  fellahs  alone,  although 
most  concerned,  do  not  seem  to  trouble  much 
about  the  future.  When  questioned,  they  agree 
that  the  year  is  bad,  that  poverty  threatens, 
that  perhaps  they  will  not  know  where  to  get 
bread  till  the  harvest  of  next  year,  but  the 
possibiUty  of  a  reduction  of  the  taxes  overwhelms 
them  with  joy,  and  outweighs  the  certainty  of 
future  trouble.  Those  who,  by  selling  antiquities 
or  hiring  out  donkeys,  are  comfortably  off,  take 
no  care  to  save  their  profits  for  a  bad  season,  but 
spend  them  day  by  day  according  to  their  fancy 
and  leave  the  care  of  getting  them  out  of  the  mess 
when  the  crisis  comes  to  the  Government.  If  the 
Government  fails,  then  God  will  provide. 


74 


VII 

KENEH  AND  ITS  MUNICIPALITY 

It  would  seem  as  if  all  the  animals  of  an  Egyptian 
farm  had  assembled  on  the  shore  by  the  side  of 
the  dahabieh.  A  whining  camel  is  exchanging 
surly  reflections  with  a  disconsolate  donkey,  two 
buffaloes  bellow  in  two  different  keys,  dogs  brawl, 
barking  loudly,  turkeys  cluck,  a  half-dozen  cocks 
challenge  one  another  loudly  and  shrilly,  and  now 
and  again  an  Arab  flute,  snuffling  and  shrill, 
accompanies  the  cadence  of  a  lamentable  melopceia. 
The  noise  increases,  and  at  length  becomes  so  bad 
that  I  can  stand  it  no  longer,  and  go  up  on  deck 
to  send  the  menagerie  to  finish  its  serenade  else- 
where. But  neither  camel,  nor  ass,  nor  dog  is  to 
be  seen,  only  on  the  shore  a  sort  of  turbaned 
juggler,  who,  puffing  out  his  cheeks  and  waddling 
along,  is  making  the  uproar  all  by  himself, 
imitating  the  cries  of  animals  in  the  hope  of 
bakhshisch.  He  is  respected  for  twenty  leagues 
round,  and  pointed  out  to  tourists  as  one  of 
the  wonders  of  Keneh. 

75 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Twenty  years  ago  Keneh  was  famous  for  its 
manufacture  of  porous  goullehs  for  keeping  the 
water  fresh,  and  for  its  colony  of  somewhat  elderly 
almehs,  the  last  of  a  company  of  them  exiled  by 
Abbas  Pacha  in  1853.  Keneh  was  then  separated 
from  the  river  by  a  barren  plain  bounded  on  the 
west  by  a  canal  that  was  dry  in  winter.  Its 
appearance  was  most  commonplace,  with  its  public 
buildings  in  front,  moudirieh,  barracks,  powder- 
magazine,  the  houses  of  the  Coptic  consuls  with 
the  arms  of  France  and  Germany,  groups  of  clay 
hovels  separated  by  muddy,  stagnant  alleys,  an  ill- 
provided  bazaar,  all  the  poverty  and  dirt  of  Upper 
Egypt.  At  the  present  time  Keneh  continues  to 
manufacture  goullehs,  but  the  last  almehs  died 
a  dozen  years  ago,  full  of  days  and  rich  enough  to 
have  deserved  universal  esteem.  It  possesses 
instead  a  new  institution,  of  which  it  seems  to 
be  very  proud,  a  municipal  commission,  almost  a 
municipality,  recruited  among  the  most  notable  in- 
habitants. The  town  is  connected  with  the  Nile  by 
an  avenue  of  fine  lebakhs.  The  municipality  planted 
them  and  tends  them.  In  the  middle  of  the  road- 
way a  large  iron  roller  drawn  by  an  ox  crushes  the 
pebbles  and  so  renders  the  road  smooth.  The  muni- 
cipality have  brought  it  from  Cairo.  On  one  side 
squads  of  workmen  dig  a  trench  and  lay  pipes  in  it. 
The  municipaUty  have  decided  to  bring  water  from 

76 


Keneh  and  its  Municipality 

the  Nile  and  are  making  the  conduits.  The  road 
winds  through  a  well-cultivated  country  where 
patches  of  green  corn  alternate  with  squares  of 
beans  or  lupins  and  with  strips  of  many-coloured 
poppies.  Keneh  makes  large  quantities  of 
Theban  extract,  and  for  several  centuries  has  been 
the  principal  opium  market  in  Egypt.  A  dam 
furnished  with  sluice-gates  bars  and  regulates  the 
canal,  always  by  virtue  of  the  municipality,  and  the 
bank  is  no  longer  bordered  with  large  buildings. 
It  has  been  invaded  by  a  mass  of  new  houses, 
which  hides  them  and  shuts  out  for  them  the  view 
of  the  plain.  At  the  end  of  the  dike  the  muni- 
cipaHty  have  laid  out  a  pubUc  garden,  two  or  three 
gravelled  walks  and  beds  of  flowers,  not  over  full, 
but  which  brighten  the  entrance.  We  turn  to 
the  right  and  at  once  recognise  the  beneficent 
action  of  the  municipality.  The  ground  is  no 
longer,  as  before,  a  bed  of  dust,  soft,  uneven,  ill- 
smelling,  soiled  with  all  kinds  of  unnameable 
rubbish  and  dirt.  It  is  firm  under  the  feet,  clean 
and  freshly  watered,  but  not  too  wet,  so  that  the 
donkeys  may  not  slip.  A  busy  crowd  circulates, 
carts  loaded  with  cases,  or  barrows  pass  and  meet 
in  good  order,  itinerant  tradesmen  cry  their  goods 
under  the  vigilant  eye  of  the  poUce,  and  now  and 
again  a  numbered  cab  drives  discreetly  along. 
Keneh  is  decidedly  a  civilised  town  and  a  large  town. 

77 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

The  bazaar  looks  well  under  its  worm-eaten 
wooden  roof;  although  not  as  good  as  that  of 
Siout,  its  variety  is  pleasing  to  the  eye.  The 
shops  are  well  provided  and  attract  many 
customers,  but  you  must  not  expect  Oriental 
colour.  With  the  exception  of  the  babouches, 
everything  comes  from  Europe  and  Cairo,  where 
stuffs,  pottery,  glassware,  furniture,  preserved 
comestibles,  are  all  made  after  European  models. 
One  of  the  principal  okelles  used  to  be  reserved 
for  merchants  from  Hedjaz,  who  brought  barbaric 
camel-hair  carpets,  but  of  a  quite  good  design ; 
the  largest  were  worth  from  two  to  three  guineas, 
and  with  some  chicanery  were  sold  in  Paris  as 
antique  carpets.  The  okelle  is  there,  but  it  is 
changed  into  a  caf^,  and  merchants  do  not  stop 
at  Keneh  any  more ;  they  take  their  carpets  to 
Suez,  to  Port  Said,  or  to  Cairo,  whence  the  brokers 
send  them  to  Europe.  The  vegetable  and  poultry 
market  is  properly  an  extension  of  the  bazaar,  and 
there  astonishing  progress  is  to  be  seen.  Twenty 
years  ago  only  indigenous  vegetables  were  sold, 
pumpkins,  cucumbers,  bamiahs,meloukhiahs,  lupins, 
beans;  now  there  are  nearly  all  the  European 
vegetables,  carrots,  turnips,  cauhflowers,  cabbages, 
beetroots,  peas,  beans,  red  and  yellow  potatoes, 
without  mentioning  salads  such  as  lettuce  and 
chicory.     To  tell  the  truth,  they  are  not  as  good 

78 


Keneh  and  its  Municipality 

as  ours,  and  for  this  reason.  The  good  people  of 
the  Said  especially  value  size  and  solidity  in  what 
they  eat ;  they  like,  as  French  peasants  say,  some- 
thing that  fills  the  stomach.  Our  new  potatoes 
and  young  peas  and  beans,  our  small  carrots  and 
turnips  would  seem  very  poor  food  to  them,  since 
it  does  not  after  eating  sufficiently  stifle  the  empty 
feeling ;  they  like  woody  turnips  and  carrots,  hard 
peas  as  big  as  balls,  overgrown  cabbages  and 
cauUflowers  run  to  seed;  they  prefer  the 
exaggeration  of  our  vegetables  to  our  vegetables 
themselves,  but  the  exaggeration  as  seen  on  a 
vegetable  stall  or  in  baskets  as  the  visitor  rides 
through  the  town  on  his  donkey  is  very  pleasing 
to  the  eye.  Doubtless,  local  colour  loses  through 
this  invasion  of  a  new  order,  but  even  in  Egypt 
we  cannot  feed  on  local  colour  for  long,  and  those 
tourists  who  are  most  hostile  to  the  changes  that 
spoil  the  physiognomy  of  the  country  would 
grumble  at  the  hotelkeepers  of  Louxor  if  they 
gave  them  the  former  native  vegetables  instead  of 
French  early  ones. 

Behind  the  poultry  market  the  high  street  winds 
towards  the  railway  station  with  all  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  a  populous  suburban  street  in  a  French 
provincial  town.  Sometimes  the  shops  cease  and 
yield  place  to  the  bare  fa(?ade  of  a  middle-class 
house  or  a  cheikh's  tomb.     The  windows  of  the 

79 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

tomb  are  barred,  but  have  neither  glass  panes  nor 
shutters,  and  through  the  opening  the  interior  is 
visible.  The  coffin  rests  on  trestles  or  on  a 
low  platform  and  is  concealed  by  an  ample 
mortuary  cloth,  the  pieces  of  which  are  arranged 
according  to  a  curious  pattern.  From  a  distance 
they  remind  us  of  the  geometrical  patterns  that 
decorate  the  doors  of  mosques,  and  the  colours 
are  combined  in  a  harsh  and  careless  manner,  light 
chestnut  with  dazzling  yellows  and  greens ;  the 
seams  are  hidden  under  a  braid  of  tarnished  tinsel, 
which  helps  somewhat  to  tone  down  the  discords. 
The  turban  is  laid  on  the  cloth  at  the  level  of  the 
head,  rags  and  various  objects  are  hung  above  the 
coffin,  offerings  of  sick  persons  who  have  been 
cured,  or  of  the  faithful  saved  by  the  intervention 
of  the  saint.  A  man  crouching  at  the  head  recites 
a  chapter  of  the  Koran  in  a  low  voice,  distracted 
neither  by  the  noises  of  the  street  nor  the  gaze  of 
the  curious. 

Near  the  railway  station,  on  the  right  of  the 
roadway  against  the  wall,  a  sarcophagus  of  the 
Grgeco-Roman  epoch  may  be  seen,  very  much 
damaged  and  three  parts  buried  in  the  ground. 
Tradition  has  it  that  this  was  the  place  of 
embarkation  used  by  Sidi  Abderrahim  el  Kenaoui, 
one  of  the  greatest  saints  of  the  district,  when  he 
crossed    the    Nile   in  going    from    his    farms  at 

80 


Keneh  and  its  Municipality 

Denderah  to  his  house  at  Keneh.  He  is  buried 
not  far  from  there  on  the  other  side  of  the  railway 
Une,  at  the  entrance  of  the  cemetery  itself,  and 
three  tall  lebakhs  distinguish  his  tomb,  the  oldest 
certainly  of  all  the  trees  of  the  kind  I  have  seen  in 
Egypt,  as  the  size  of  the  trunks  and  the  thickness 
of  the  branches  testify.  The  last  of  them  is  hollow, 
and  its  twisted  roots  form  a  sort  of  niche  or 
rather  corridor  at  the  level  of  the  ground  which 
divides  it  into  parts.  A  beggar-woman  has  in- 
stalled her  kitchen  there,  and  while  we  passed  was 
occupied  in  blowing  up  her  fire  with  great  energy. 
The  flame  rose  high  up  and  licked  the  bark.  It 
is  evident  that  some  day  it  will  catch  the  dry 
trunk,  and  there  will  be  a  fine  blaze  which  will 
probably  extend  to  the  neighbouring  trees.  A  few 
steps  from  there  a  fourth  lebakh,  still  young, 
shades  a  fountain  in  beaten  clay  that  the  mortmain 
of  the  saint  fills  each  day  with  the  water  of  the 
Nile  for  the  use  of  passers-by.  It  was  in  its  shade 
that  Sidi  Abderrahim  crouched  when  he  came  to 
the  cemetery  to  pray.  A  wooden  dahabieh  is 
suspended  from  the  principal  branches  instead  of 
the  stone  sarcophagus,  which  would  have  been  too 
heavy,  and  near  it  the  usual  rags  testify  to  an  in- 
credible number  of  prayers  granted  or  cures  accom- 
pUshed.  The  tomb  itself  is  quite  close,  a  new  or  a 
restored  chapel,  adorned  outside  with  very  primitive 

81  F 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

drawings,  into  which  a  most  amiable  cheikh 
invites  us  to  enter.  It  has  nothing  striking  to 
show;  as  in  any  ordinary  mosque,  you  pass  through 
the  whitewashed  halls  of  ablution  and  prayer 
and  then  a  small  courtyard  before  reaching  the 
vaulted  chapel  in  which  the  coffin  rests,  covered 
with  a  variegated  cloth,  renewed  every  year.  A 
ragged  beggar  sleeps  in  a  corner  ;  on  the  threshold 
an  efFendi  in  a  Ught-coloured  jacket  and  a  high 
tarbouche  murmurs  a  prayer  with  great  fervour. 


82 


VIII 

DENDERAH 

The  ordinary  way  of  reaching  Denderah  is  so 
devious  that,  if  pressed  for  time,  it  is  better  to 
avoid  it.  So  we  go  down  among  the  sugar-canes 
to  find  a  short  cut,  and  proceed  in  Indian  file 
along  the  irrigation  trenches  as  best  we  can.  The 
donkey-boys  have  their  work  cut  out  for  them 
in  preventing  their  beasts  from  sUpping  in  the 
mud  or  stumbling  over  the  fallen  canes.  The 
harvest  began  a  fortnight  ago,  to  the  benefit  of 
the  sugar  refineries  of  Nag  -  Hammadi.  Vast 
spaces  are  already  cleared.  In  spite  of  the 
approaching  darkness  two  or  three  gangs  of 
labourers  were  still  at  work  cutting  down  the 
canes  and  tying  them  on  to  the  growling  camels. 
But  the  day's  task  is  over  almost  everywhere, 
and  the  reapers  are  wending  homewards  chatter- 
ing as  they  go.  As  we  meet  them,  they  suspend 
their  conversation  and  assail  us  with  the  usual 
request  for  bakhshisch,  but  in  so  good-humoured 
a   tone   that    it   is    almost    a   friendly  greeting. 

83 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

We  have  already  left  them  far  behind  when  we 
still  hear  the  women's  laugh  and  the  shrill  tones 
of  the  children.  The  ground  soon  rises,  and  the 
sebakh  diggers  have  dug  into  it  so  terribly,  that 
it  is  necessary  to  be  very  careful  not  to  fall 
into  some  hole.  Rows  of  ruined  walls  show  the 
positions  of  the  ancient  streets  and  mark  on  the 
ground  the  grouping  of  the  buildings :  here  the 
ruins  of  a  vaulted  house,  there  a  half-overturned 
basiUca,  its  pillars  of  grey  stone,  its  architraves 
broken,  its  mortar  in  black  basalt,  the  whole 
submerged  in  incredible  masses  of  broken  glass 
and  reddish  potsherds.  On  the  top  of  the 
eminence  is  a  thick,  heavy  gate,  the  sides  cut 
about  and  covered  with  mediocre  hieroglyphics 
in  praise  of  the  Emperor  Domitian  and  of  the 
Antonines.  We  enter,  and  suddenly  at  the  end 
of  a  kind  of  dusty  avenue  see  a  dozen  yards  above 
us  in  the  air  an  army  of  large,  calm,  smiling  faces 
sheltered  by  a  stiff,  hard  cornice.  It  is  as  if  the 
temple  was  starting  from  the  ground  to  go  to 
meet  the  visitor. 

Mariette  and  his  successors  tried  to  disengage 
it  completely,  but  they  only  succeeded  in  emptying 
the  interior,  and  the  exterior  remained  buried  half- 
way up.  The  descent  was  made  by  a  modern 
staircase,  instead  of  entering  on  the  flat  through 
the  ancient  gateway.     The  banisters  and  the  steps 

84 


Denderah 

were  worn  away ;  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  going 
down  into  a  cellar.  But  for  some  years  now  the 
rubbish  which  disgraced  the  fa9ade  has  been 
cleared  away,  and  entrance  is  gained  just  under 
the  portico.  Six  rows  of  enormous  columns,  rising 
about  fifteen  yards  above  the  ground,  support  a 
roof  of  gigantic  flat  stones.  Slender  figures,  stiff 
and  formal,  turn  in  rows  round  the  shaft  with 
sacerdotal  gestures.  Four  women's  faces  with 
cow's  ears,  with  a  sort  of  rectangular  case  like 
the  music-box  of  certain  timbrels  for  headdress, 
formed  a  capital  of  elegant  strangeness.  The 
timbrel  was  Hathor's  favourite  instrument,  the 
emblem  into  which  she  preferred  to  put  a  little 
of  herself,  so  that  the  architect  conceived  the 
columns  as  so  many  huge  timbrels  out  of  reverence 
for  her.  The  light  flows  between  the  columns, 
and  striking  the  surfaces  unequally,  brings  out 
some  of  the  pictures  that  adorn  them,  while  others 
are  scarcely  seen  in  the  half-light.  From  the 
ground-Kne  to  the  rise  of  the  roof  there  is  not 
an  inch  of  stone  on  the  panels  that  connect  the 
columns,  on  the  walls  at  the  back,  on  the  door- 
posts or  the  lintels,  on  the  cornices,  on  the  archi- 
traves, that  does  not  contain  a  carved  or  painted 
figure  or  inscription.  They  represent  the  ordinary 
ceremonials  of  the  religious  services,  and  principally 
those  observed  at  the  building  or  dedication  of 

85 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

temples.     The  king  strides  over  the  site  he  has 
chosen  in  order  to  settle  the  boundaries ;  he  marks 
the  line  of  the  walls  with  a  cord,  he  hoes  out  the 
foundations,  he  spreads  the  sand  on  which  the 
first  course  of  stones  or  bricks  is  to  be  laid,  he 
fashions  the  brick  for  the  outer  enclosure.     The 
execution  sometimes  shows  Greek  influence,  but 
the  subjects  are  those  usual  in  the  earlier  periods. 
Thoutmosis  III.  or  Ramses  II.,  if  they  returned 
to  earth,  would  recognise  at  the  first  glance  the 
ritual  they  celebrated  in  their  Hfetime.     It  would 
be  as  well,  however,  that  after  having  examined 
the  whole  they  should  not  desire  to  discover  the 
names  of  the  kings  who  founded  the  temple,  for 
the  reading  of  the  cartouches  would  afford  them 
unwelcome  surprises.     The  sovereigns  who  atti- 
tudinise so  proudly  before  the  native  gods,  with 
their  short  petticoats  and  varied  headdresses,  their 
lions'    or   jackals'    tails,    their    censers,    are    not 
Egyptians,    but    Emperors    of   Rome — Tiberius, 
Caligula,  Claudius,  Nero — whom  the  sculptor  has 
dressed  as  Egyptians.     The  priest  of  Hathor,  on 
whom  the  misfortunes  of  the  times  had  inflicted 
these  Romans  for  masters,  could  not  resign  him- 
self to  believe  that  they  were  entirely  alien  to  his 
race;   he  felt  that  they  were  exiled  compatriots 
whom    the    gods    had    caused    to    be    born    in 
barbarous  lands  far  from  the  banks  of  the  Nile. 

86 


i-^'fKJ 


DENDERAH,      RELIEF   ON   THE  OUTSIDE  WALL. 


To  face  p.  86. 


Denderah 

Tiberius,  Caligula,  Nero  were  themselves  deceived 
by  appearances  and  proclaimed  themselves 
Romans,  and  they  were  Romans  for  those  of 
their  subjects  who  were  condemned  to  live  out- 
side Egypt.  In  Egypt  only  was  it  guessed  that 
they  were  of  the  flesh  of  Ra,  the  authentic 
descendants  of  the  national  dynasties.  They  were 
dressed  in  the  ancient  fashion  of  the  country,  the 
language  and  the  ideas  of  a  bygone  day  were  put 
into  their  mouths,  and  when  duly  disguised  as 
Pharaohs  little  was  wanting  for  them  to  imagine 
that,  so  equipped,  they  reigned  over  the  immen- 
sity of  the  universe. 

The  portico  was  always  accessible  to  all.  The 
townspeople  offered  their  sacrifices  and  their 
prayers  there;  their  devotions  ended,  they  with- 
drew, and  the  greater  number  of  them  never 
penetrated  beyond :  they  only  frequented  the 
forecourt  of  the  sacred  house.  Free  access  to  the 
interior  was  the  privilege  of  those  alone  whom 
wealth,  rank,  birth,  and  education  lifted  above 
the  common  herd.  According  to  the  Egyptian 
religion,  a  man  could  not  pass  directly  from  the 
clouded  brightness  of  this  world  to  the  pure 
splendour  of  the  gods  ;  before  actually  confronting 
such  radiance  men's  eyes  must  be  weaned  from 
terrestrial  light.  The  halls  immediately  beyond 
the  portico,  then,  were  plunged  in  perpetual  twi- 

87 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

light,  and  the  darkness  increased  as  the  dwelling 
of    the    divinity    was    approached,    and    in    the 
Holy  of  Holies  it  was  almost  entirely  dark.     The 
twiUght  which  begins  within  the  portico  prevails 
in  the  central  nave   as  far  as  the  threshold  of 
the  sanctuary.     But  the  aisles   are  enveloped  in 
darkness,  the  decorations  of  the  walls  look  vague 
and  blurred  as  they  did  in  the  old  days  when  the 
rehgion  of  Hathor  flourished  in  its  vigour.     The 
Chapel  of  the  New  Year  alone  welcomes  us  bright 
and  luminous,  a  miniature  temple  placed  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  large  temple.    We  find  a  narrow 
courtyard  enclosed  by  high  walls,  between  which 
a  scrap  of  sky  shines,  a  flight  of  jagged  steps,  a 
pierced  fa9ade,  the  gate  of  which  is  framed  by 
two  columns  with  Hathor's  head,  a  single  chamber 
where  about  the    dog-days  the    rising  of  Sirius 
and  the  beginning  of  the  year    was   celebrated, 
the  whole  making  a  very  strange  effect,  and  worth 
examining  at  leisure  if  we  had  the  time.      But 
our  guide  informs  us  that  it  grows  late,  and  that 
we  must  hasten  if  we  would  terminate  our  visit 
before  night  closes  in.     What  he  does  not  dare 
to  confess,  and  what  I  have  known  for  a  long 
time,   is    that  the    chapel   is   haunted    and   that 
he  is  afraid.      Hathor  lives  there,  and  continues 
to  watch   over  the   treasure  that  the    Pharaohs 
entrusted  to  her.     She  only  comes  out  at  rare 

88 


Denderah 

intervals,  at  full  moon,  to  feed  among  the  com 
in  the  shape  of  a  white  cow.  A  certain  man 
of  Denderah,  who  met  her  some  twenty-five  years 
ago,  cleverly  conjectured  that  while  she  was 
foraging  about,  the  hiding-place  would  be  open 
and  the  treasure  accessible.  He  hastened  to  the 
chapel,  saw  an  open  vent-hole  in  a  corner,  crept 
through  it,  and  filled  a  sack  he  had  with  him 
with  gold.  He  escaped  from  the  beast,  who 
returned  furious,  and  as  soon  as  he  reached  his 
home  put  his  plunder  into  an  old  iron  saucepan 
in  which  he  kept  his  savings.  He  might  have 
known  that  bewitched  coin  does  not  stay  long 
in  hands  which  have  unrighteously  seized  it.  The 
first  time  he  went  to  take  some  of  it,  the  saucepan 
disappeared  through  the  earth,  thus  carrying  off 
his  savings  as  well  as  the  property  of  the 
goddess.  There  would  have  been  nothing  to 
alarm  us  in  a  tete-a-tete  with  Hathor,  but  our 
guide  was  so  terrified  that,  out  of  pity  for  him, 
we  did  not  insist,  and  ascended  to  the  roof  of 
the  temple. 

It  is  arranged  in  three  stories  which  retire  one 
behind  the  other  from  the  end  of  the  sanctuary 
to  the  top  of  the  pronaos.  The  first  and  the 
lowest  is  a  kind  of  cloister,  the  sides  surrounded 
by  the  high  parapet  which  crowns  the  outer 
walls.     Nothing  that  went  on  in  it  could  be  seen 

89 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

from  outside.  The  priest  and  the  ladies  of  the 
town  assembled  there  every  year  to  celebrate  the 
passion  and  resurrection  of  Osiris.  They  estab- 
lished themselves  in  the  two  chapels  that  ter- 
minated it  on  the  north,  and  represented  the 
tomb  of  the  god.  There  they  made  an  image  of 
wood  and  si;one  and  precious  metals,  with  which 
they  imitated  the  rites  of  mummification  and  the 
laying  of  the  mummy  in  the  coffin.  For  two 
days  they  watched  and  wept  over  this  pretended 
corpse,  while  the  priests  and  women  charged 
with  representing  the  principal  personages  of  the 
legend — Isis  and  Nephthys,  Anubis  and  Horus — 
performed  the  operations  which  were  to  bring 
him  to  life.  At  length  the  magic  of  the  words 
and  gestures  worked:  Osiris  moved  on  his 
funeral  couch,  lifted  his  head,  and  sat  up.  The 
songs  of  lamentation  changed  into  songs  of  joy, 
which,  heard  by  the  crowd  gathered  outside, 
announced  the  consummation  of  the  sacred 
mystery.  A  loud  shout  of  joy  sounded  across 
the  plain,  carrying  the  good  news  afar.  To-day 
the  mason  wasps  have  taken  possession  of  the 
chapels  in  which  the  Osirian  drama  was  played, 
and  their  clay  nests  cover  the  inscriptions.  Just 
at  present  the  winter  keeps  them  torpid,  but 
in  spring  and  summer  raging  swarms  of  them 
have  to  be  confronted  in  climbing  from  terrace 

90 


Denderah 

to  terrace  up  to  the  platform  of  the  pronaos. 
The  old  staircase  is  destroyed,  and  the  sort  of 
iron  ladder  that  replaces  it  is  disquietingly  fragile, 
but  the  view  is  one  of  the  most  extensive  in 
Egypt.  In  the  distance  the  grand  yet  simple  lines 
of  the  hills  extend  in  somewhat  monotonous 
fashion.  The  Nile,  its  shining  surface  dotted  with 
white  sails,  flows  among  the  trees.  The  country 
stretches  green  and  pleasant,  with  tufts  of  acacias 
and  palms  scattered  about  it.  Here  and  there  a 
village  on  a  hill  stands  out  grey  amid  the  green- 
ness. The  evening  mists  begin  to  be  visible  above 
the  houses.  The  wind  brings  in  gusts  the  scent  of 
flowering  beans,  and  so  penetrating  a  sweetness 
breathes  from  everything  that  we  can  do  nothing 
but  look  vaguely  at  what  is  before  us  in  a  sort  of 
voluptuous  languor.  The  sun  has  just  gone 
down;  at  the  edge  of  the  horizon  a  ripple  of 
flame  and  liquid  gold  marks  its  course  and  lends 
colour  to  the  growing  twilight.  The  tones  change 
and  follow  each  other  unceasingly,  become  lighter, 
melt  into  each  other,  graduate  from  flaming  red 
to  purple  amethyst,  golden  yellow,  soft  pink, 
faded  green,  pale  blue.  For  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  there  is  a  play  of  colour  of  inexhaustible 
strength  and  richness ;  then  as  darkness  gains  on 
the  world  the  tints  grow  confused  and  melt 
away,  the  reflections  vanish,  the  air  thickens,  the 

91 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

sky  becomes   a   uniform  dark  blue.      We  must 
break  the  charm  and  go  down. 

The  temple  is  undoubtedly  beautiful  in  the 
daytime  when  the  sun  shines  on  it  and  brings  out 
all  the  details.  But  to  see  it  as  it  used  to  be,  and 
to  recapture  something  of  the  emotions  it  roused 
in  the  souls  of  the  faithful,  it  should  be  visited  at 
night.  The  guards  have  lighted  their  lantern,  but 
its  feeble  glimmer  by  contrast  rather  emphasises 
than  dissipates  the  darkness  in  which  we  move. 
It  seems  as  if  the  air  has  hardened  and  refuses 
to  take  the  light.  The  building  seems  to  have 
disappeared.  Here  and  there  a  door-post,  the 
shaft  or  the  base  of  a  column,  a  panel  of  a  wall 
with  its  decoration  of  figures  only  half  visible, 
rises  and  floats  before  our  eyes  for  a  moment, 
then  suddenly  fades  away  and  is  reabsorbed  in 
the  darkness.  A  flight  of  bats  envelops  us  in  a 
circle  of  short,  rapid  cries,  the  pattering  of  swift 
claws  resounds  at  our  approach,  the  echoes  awake 
with  a  hollow  noise  which  does  not  seem  to 
coincide  with  our  footsteps.  A  kind  of  vague 
presence  seems  to  hover  in  the  gloom,  and  to 
pursue  us  from  chamber  to  chamber.  Should  we 
be  really  greatly  astonished  if  at  the  turn  of  a 
corridor  we  met  a  priest  come  back  to  his  post 
after  centuries  of  absence,  or  if  the  sound  of 
distant  timbrels  which  announced  the  theophanies 

92 


Denderah 

of  the  goddess  began  to  vibrate  in  the  depths  of 
the  sanctuary?  In  the  open  air  and  under  the 
starry  vault  of  heaven  the  feeling  of  religious 
awe  remains  with  us.  Silently  and  almost  fear- 
fully we  take  the  road  to  the  river.  When,  at 
the  end  of  the  avenue,  we  turned  round  for 
a  last  look,  the  grand  heads  of  Hathor  seemed 
to  become  alive,  and  reply  with  kindliness  to  our 
farewell  greeting.  A  moonbeam  lit  a  spark  of 
life  in  their  eyes,  and  accentuated  on  their  lips 
the  melancholy  smile  that  gives  the  Egyptian 
statues  a  mysterious  attraction. 


IX 

THE  ARRIVAL  AT  THEBES 

As  I  rushed  on  to  the  platform  with  the  unhappy 
expression  of  a  man  who  has  just  missed  his  train, 
the  station-master  with  a  reassuring  gesture  showed 
me  the  inscription  chalked  on  the  traditional 
blackboard :  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  loss 
of  breath,  for  the  Cairo  express  is  fifty-three 
minutes  late.  I  could  have  imagined  myself  in 
Europe,  and  the  general  aspect  of  the  place  aided 
the  impression ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  palm- 
trees  in  the  distance  and  the  employees'  tar- 
bouches,  I  might  have  been  in  a  railway  station 
in  Provence  or  the  Bordelais.  Everything  was 
there:  the  neat  verandah,  the  little  garden,  the 
hens  pecking  on  the  lines,  the  puzzled  dog  who 
seemed  to  be  asking  in  which  direction  he  was 
presently  to  depart.  A  pile  of  luggage  was 
waiting  at  the  end  of  the  platform,  rows  of 
carriages  were  at  rest  on  the  sidings,  an  engine 
with  steam  up  was  puffing  impatiently  in  its 
corner,  while  the  men  were  at  work  making  up 

94 


The  Arrival  at  Thebes 

the  train.  It  is  now  only  fourteen  hours  from 
Cairo  to  Louxor,  and  the  nine  Pharaohs  who  dwell 
there  in  the  tomb  of  Amen6thes  II.  could  get  from 
the  royal  sepulchre  to  the  comfortable  glass  cases 
prepared  for  them  in  the  Museum  in  one  day.  After 
a  night  of  shaking,  cold  and  dust,  you  are  assailed 
on  your  arrival  by  a  crowd  of  importunate  hotel 
touts  and  dragomans,  each  shouting  the  name  of 
his  hotel — Hotel  de  Louxor,  Hotel  de  Karnak, 
Hotel  Tewfikieh ;  the  omnibuses  are  at  the  door, 
and  about  ten  cabs.  The  traveller  manages  as 
best  he  can,  and  a  drive  of  five  or  six  minutes 
through  narrow  streets  deposits  him  all  confused 
at  the  hotel  of  his  choice;  no  sight  of  the 
monuments  permits  him  to  imagine  that  he  is 
in  the  capital  of  Ramses,  and  not  in  some 
village  of  modern  Egypt. 

But  it  is  in  approaching  Thebes  by  the  Nile 
that  the  imperial  beauty  of  the  site  on  which  it 
has  been  enthroned  for  centuries  is  best  realised. 
Several  hours  before  it  is  reached,  while  passing 
by  El  Khizam  and  Gamoleh,  a  large  headland 
of  precipitous  cliffs  rises  on  the  horizon,  dominated 
on  the  right  by  a  pyramidal  summit ;  while 
lower  down,  towards  the  left,  three  pointed  peaks 
rise  bent  back  at  the  top,  like  trees  bowed  by 
the  wind.  These  testify  to  the  Theban  plain, 
the  boundaries   between  which  it  stretches,  and 

95 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

which  arrest  its  expansion.  At  the  fatal  periods 
of  history  when  the  hordes  of  invaders  from  the 
banks  of  the  Tigris  or  the  tablelands  of  Ethiopia 
saw  those  landmarks,  they  knew  that  the  end 
of  their  fatigues  was  at  hand,  and  prepared  for 
a  final  onset  to  gain  the  long  coveted  prey. 
The  three  peaks  soon  vanish,  for  the  channel 
faithfully  follows  the  windings  of  the  right  bank, 
and  the  high  embankment  cut  out  of  the  earth 
as  if  by  a  knife,  wooded  with  acacias,  tamarisks, 
nabecas,  date-palms,  almost  shuts  out  the  view  on 
that  side,  but  the  landscape  of  the  left  bank  can 
be  clearly  seen,  and  changes  every  moment. 
The  cliff  is  smoother  at  the  foot  and  joined  by 
ridges  between  which  are  gorges,  the  last  of 
which,  standing  out  very  dark  against  the  yellow 
background,  marks  the  entrance  to  the  ravines 
that  lead  to  the  Valley  of  the  Kings.  At  the 
turn  of  the  first  bend  a  second  row  of  heights 
is  revealed,  which  fall  back  ladder-wise  to  the 
extreme  south,  and  are  lost  near  Erment  among 
the  distant  purple  hills.  But  almost  immediately 
a  strange  vision  seems  to  rise  out  of  the  river 
itself;  standing  out  clearly  against  a  screen  of 
trees  we  see  the  crenellated  towers  and  the  narrow 
gateway  of  a  little  Saracen  fortress  striped  red  and 
white,  built  by  a  Dutchman,  M.  Insinger,  on  a 
promontory  beyond  Louxor.     From  that  moment 

9a 


The  Arrival  at  Thebes 

we  are  in  Thebes.  The  city  of  the  dead  passes  as 
in  a  panorama  on  the  left  bank,  the  undulating 
slopes  of  Drah-abou'1-reggah,  the  amphitheatre 
of  Deir  el-Bahari,  its  long  white  colonnade,  its 
inclined  planes,  its  stories  of  superimposed  porti- 
coes, its  irregular  facade,  then  the  hill  of  Cheikh 
Abd-el-Gournah  riddled  with  tombs,  and  then, 
clinging  to  the  sides  of  the  hill,  a  mass  of  grey- 
walls  in  which  the  chapel  of  Deir  el-Medineh  is 
enclosed,  and  then  almost  in  the  background, 
between  spots  of  verdure,  the  indistinct  silhouette 
of  Medinet-Habou.  On  the  right  the  domes 
and  towers  of  Karnak  are  visible  for  a  moment 
level  with  the  ground  before  they  are  concealed  by 
the  trees.  The  yards  of  the  boats  melt  into  each 
other  behind  a  spur  of  land,  a  mass  of  variegated 
buildings  appears  on  an  irregular  mound  of  ancient 
debris  at  the  bend,  and  while  the  steamer  makes 
ready  to  land  we  behold  minarets,  the  point  of  an 
obelisk,  the  bold  cornice  of  a  pylon,  an  avenue  of 
gigantic  columns,  a  whole  temple  with  its  courtyards 
framed  by  porticoes,  its  hypostyle  halls,  its  chambers 
open  to  the  air,  its  walls  chased  with  hieroglyphics 
and  darkened  by  time.  The  quay  at  which  we  land 
is  the  old  quay  of  the  Ptolemies,  restored  and 
repaired  in  places  about  ten  years  ago.  A  mur- 
mur of  donkey-boys,  dragomans,  European  loafers, 
and  sellers  of  antiquities  annoys  the  traveller  as  he 

97  G 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

lands;  the  hotel  porters  fight  for  him  under  the 
watchful  eyes  of  two  policemen ;  two  steps  off 
is  the  Louxor  hotel,  its  hospitable  door  decorated 
with  pseudo-Egyptian  ornaments  by  a  native 
painter. 

The  temple  looks  very  grand  now  that  it  is 
"^  entirely  dug  out,  and  in  the  evening,  after  the 
noisy  throng  of  tourists  has  departed,  we  can  easily 
imagine  it  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  its  splendour. 
The  oncoming  darkness  hides  its  breaches,  veils 
the  damage  done  by  the  Copts,  clothes  the  poverty 
of  the  columns,  and  repairs  the  injuries  of  the  bas- 
reliefs.  The  cry  of  the  Muezzin,  coming  suddenly 
from  the  mosque  of  Aboul-Haggag,  resounds 
through  the  ruins  like  the  call  to  prayer  of  some 
priest  of  Amon,  king  of  the  gods,  forgotten  at  his 
post,  and  we  almost  expect  to  hear  a  choir  of  voices 
and  a  faint  sound  of  harps  answering  him  from  the 
sanctuary  with  a  melancholy  hymn  to  the  setting  sun. 
Soon,  in  the  imagination,  the  rows  of  figures  on 
the  walls  descend  to  earth,  and  with  banners  raised 
aloft  and  smoking  censers  march  in  solemn  pro- 
cession, the  sacred  boat  in  which  sleeps  the  image 
of  the  god  on  the  shoulders  of  its  bearers,  through 
the  airless  corridors,  the  columned  halls,  the  court- 
yards, through  the  triumphal  doors,  the  avenue 
of  sphinxes  or  colossal  rams,  the  remainder  of 
which  go  towards  Karnak  amid  the  silent  plains. 

98 


The  Arrival  at  Thebes 

But  there  is  always  risk  of  encountering  some 
odd  procession  like  that  I  met  yesterday  almost 
at  the  level  of  the  square  of  the  obelisk,  a  col- 
lection of  very  shabby  Louis  XIII.  musketeers, 
bravely  blowing  their  trumpets  and  beating  the  big 
drum  with  great  force,  two  children  in  fair  wigs 
and  pink  tunics  riding  astride  a  long-haired  pony, 
then  side  by  side  a  most  correct  amazon  and  a 
Hercules  of  the  fair  in  white  vest  and  red-spangled 
tights,  then  a  string  of  Empire  postilions  mounted 
on  white  asses,  and  so  grave  that  at  first  sight  you 
would  have  thought  them  a  company  of  learned 
men,  but  it  was  actually  an  itinerant  circus  para- 
ding before  a  gala  performance.  From  time  to 
time  the  orchestra  was  silent,  the  Hercules  made 
his  mountebank's  speech  in  Arabic  adjuring  the 
inhabitants  not  to  be  sparing  of  their  piastres,  then 
the  music  redoubled  its  strength,  and  the  cavalcade 
went  prancing  on  its  way. 

Heaven  knows  what  their  takings  would  be,  and 
if  they  would  have  enough  to  provide  the  poor 
devils  with  a  dinner.  The  Louxor  of  twenty  years 
ago  was  satisfied  with  the  traditional  almehs,  but 
the  dances  and  the  mournful  chants  of  the 
singing-girls  of  yester-year  no  longer  suffice  the 
Louxor  of  to-day.  Year  in,  year  out,  at  least 
two  thousand  tourists  visit  it,  and  they  have  trans- 
formed   it.      Americans    and    Enghsh  form  the 

99 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

largest  number,  Germans  and  French  are  not  rare, 
and  the  other  countries  of  Europe,  from  gay  Por- 
tugal to  Holy  Russia,  furnish  their  contingent.  On 
certain  days  of  the  week  Cook's  boats  and  those  of 
other  companies  deposit  their  troops  of  travellers, 
who  invade  everything,  set  everything  to  work,  so 
to  speak,  purchase  or  bargain  for  all  the  antiquities, 
real  or  faked,  that  they  find  offered  for  sale,  then 
depart  as  hurriedly  as  they  came — the  tourist 
anxious  to  see  everything  properly  pell-mell  with 
the  good  people  for  whom  the  expedition  to  Egypt 
is  a  donkey-ride  spoiled  by  the  monuments. 

Louxor  is  now  a  winter  place  colonised  from 
December  to  the  beginning  of  April  by  scholars, 
idle  folk,  and  invalids.  They  chatter,  intrigue, 
exchange  cards,  invite  each  other  from  hotel  to 
hotel,  or  from  boat  to  boat,  as  may  be  ;  they  play 
tennis  and  bridge,  plan  picnics  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Kings  or  the  ruins  of  Karnak,  organise  athletic 
sports  and  mock  races  in  which  the  native  don- 
key-boys compete  for  the  magnificent  prize  of 
three  shillings ;  sometimes,  even,  a  party  is  made 
up  for  the  circus  or  the  theatre.  A  chance 
company  was  playing  in  a  tent  every  evening 
tragedies  or  comedies  in  Arabic,  and  its  repertory 
included  a  Joseph  sold  by  his  brethren,  a  Telema- 
chus  imitated  from  that  of  Fenelon,  a  miser  who 
dimly  recalled    Moliere's    Harpagon,  and   dramas 

100 


The  Arrival  at  Thebes 

adapted  from  Racine  or  Shakespeare.  The  impresario 
was  on  the  point  of  departure  when  I  arrived, 
but  I  was  told  that  "  Romeo  and  Juhet,"  as  inter- 
preted by  him  and  his  companions,  was  no  ordinary 
spectacle.  From  the  moment  in  which  old  Mon- 
tague, in  classical  costume,  rushes  into  the  fray 
exclaiming, "  Oskout  ir  Gaboullette''  ("  Thou  villain, 
Capulet  I "),  until  that  when  Romeo,  finding  Juliet 
stretched  on  a  red  divan  by  way  of  tomb,  drinks 
the  poison  from  a  bottle  labelled  Cognac  vieux^ 
the  European,  familiar  with  Arabic,  has  no  reason 
to  be  bored. 

The  native,  however,  sees  no  cause  for  com- 
plaint, and  is  not  scandalised  by  the  incongruities 
of  the  dialogue  or  the  staging.  He  laughs  at 
the  comic  scenes,  is  moved  to  tears  by  the  tragic 
episodes,  is  terrified  by  the  murders,  and  it  is 
really  astonishing  how  easily  he  follows  the 
threads  of  an  action  so  alien  to  his  habits.  It 
is  no  sUght  indication  of  the  changes  that  have 
now  for  some  years  been  taking  place  in  his 
mind  that  plays  can  be  performed  throughout 
the  land  that  certainly  did  not  have  their  origin 
in  Alexandria  or  Cairo,  and  that  the  company 
can  live  on  their  takings. 

Under  the  invasion  of  the  foreigner  old  Louxor 
has  almost  entirely  disappeared.  The  central 
street,  the  only  one  that  formerly  showed  some 

101 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

sort  of  life,  is  now  nearly  always  deserted;  the 
little  bazaar  which  gave  it  animation,  and  that 
had  to  be  traversed  to  reach  Karnak,  has  closed 
its  shops,  and  the  tradesmen  have  migrated  to 
the  new  quarter  of  the  town.  In  the  north 
the  large  irregular  square  in  which  the  market 
was  held  every  Tuesday  has  vanished.  A  hotel 
bounds  it  on  one  side,  the  police  station  shuts 
in  the  farther  side,  and  the  Catholic  convent 
projects  the  shadow  of  its  Latin  cross  over 
the  site  of  the  wretched  hovels  where  the 
almehs  used  to  dance.  A  picturesque  pond  of 
stagnant  water,  the  last  relic  of  the  sacred 
lake  on  which  the  priest  of  Amon  on  certain 
days  set  afloat  the  mystic  boat  of  their  god, 
lay  formerly  on  the  north  side,  and  the  women 
used  to  draw  water  from  it  morning  and 
evening  for  household  use.  Buffaloes  bathed  in 
it  at  midday  in  summer-time,  only  the  snout 
and  the  backbone  showing  above  the  surface. 
Now  it  is  filled  up,  and  a  new  town  has 
arisen  on  its  site  between  the  old  street  of  the 
bazaar  and  the  railway  station.  Building  goes 
on  unceasingly,  gardens  are  being  planted,  and 
the  native  population  is  contaminated  by 
European  elements  now  estabhshed  there,  Greek 
bakals,  Maltese  tavern-keepers,  subordinate  rail- 
way employees,  Italian  photographers.  On  the 
south   the    canal   which   formerly    bordered   the 

102 


The  Arrival  at  Thebes 

gardens  of  the   Hotel    Pagnon   has    lately  been 
filled    up,    and    the    land    thus    recovered    sold. 
An  enterprising  landlord  has  built  an  esplanade 
there  with  frontage    on  the    Nile,    with    a  row 
of  shops   all  resembling    each    other.      It  forms 
the  outskirts   of  Louxor,   and  its   vulgarity  and 
ugliness  is   increased    by    the    contrast  it   offers 
to    the    pure    lines    and    severe    beauty    of    the 
neighbouring    temple.      In    one    of    the    houses 
dwells  a  photographer,  in  another  a  chemist  and 
druggist,    in    a  third    wily,    insinuating    Indians 
offer    tourists    trashy    stuffs    and    exotic   knick- 
knacks  at  200  per  cent,  above  their  value.     Two 
stuffed   gazelles    flank    the   door   of    a    seller    of 
antiquities,  drinking-booths  with  vulgar  signs  try 
to  attract  customers  with  the  promise  of  incom- 
parable whisky.       However,  at  the  foot  of  these 
wretched  booths  the   old  Nile  spreads  his  broad, 
pearly  waters,  and   the  undulating  movement  of 
their  flow  makes  them  glitter  in  the  sun.      The 
sandbank  of  Ourouzieh  lifts  its  yellow  back  still 
wet  from  the  waters   that  have  scarcely  retired, 
and  far  behind   it  the   western   plain   of  Thebes 
recedes  with  its  verdure   to  the  lowest  slopes  of 
the  Libyan  mountains.      The  mountains  are  of  a 
luminous  delicate  pink,  while   an  almost  imper- 
ceptible  blue   colours   the    edge  of  the   horizon: 
high  up  towards  the  west  a    few    milky   clouds 
float  slowly  in  the  calm  whiteness  of  the  sky. 

103 


X 


A    PARLIAMENT    OF    KINGS    AT    THE    TOMB 
OF  AMENOTHES  II. 

The  eleven  sovereigns  discovered  by  M.  Loret  at 
Biban-el-MoIouk  in  the  hjrpogeum  of  Amenothes 
IT.  have  been  awaiting  the  verdict  concerning 
their  fate  for  eighteen  months.  They  modestly  fill 
the  ante-chamber,  packed,  labelled,  numbered,  put 
in  iU-polished  white  wooden  cases,  like  so  many 
packages  ready  to  start  for  a  distant  destination. 
We  can  scarcely  imagine  the  anxiety  that  the 
defunct  Pharaohs  caused  their  successor  the  day 
after  the  burial.  As  it  was  incumbent  that  the 
splendour  of  their  funeral  equipment  should 
equal  or  at  least  approach  that  of  their  terrestrial 
life,  they  were  allotted  not  only  quantities  of 
furniture,  stuffs,  painted  and  decorated  plates 
and  dishes,  but  masses  of  jewels  and  royal 
orders,  necklaces,  bracelets,  rings,  amulets, 
weapons  of  war  and  of  the  chase,  mostly  in  gold 
or  silver,  inlaid  with  enamel  and  precious  stones. 
And  these  valuables  were  not  deUvered  to  them 

104 


ENTRANCE   TO    ONE    OF    THE    ROYAL   TOMBS    IN   THE   VALLEY  OF  THE   KINGS. 


To  face  p.  104. 


OP"  Tub- 

UNlVERi 


OF 
'FORN*^ 


iry 


Kings  at  the  Tomb  of  Amenothes  II. 

at  night  or  furtively :  the  pieces  of  jewellery  that 
were  not  applied  to  the  corpse  during  the 
wrapping  of  the  mummy  cloths  round  it  were 
displayed  in  full  daylight  to  the  sight  of  the 
crowd  who  assisted  at  the  funeral  ceremony,  so 
that  every  one  in  the  land  knew  their  value  and 
number.  So  much  wealth  would  certainly  attract 
the  robbers  who  exploited  the  Theban  burying 
places,  and  they  would  soon  have  carried  them 
off,  had  not  efficient  measures  been  taken  to 
guard  against  their  enterprises.  Each  tomb  had 
its  guards,  who  were  reheved  night  and  day  and 
never  lost  sight  of  the  entrance.  Sentry- 
posts  were  placed  all  along  the  valley  and 
enclosed  it  with  an  impenetrable  barrier  for  all 
who  did  not  know  the  password,  while  pohce 
made  continuous  rounds  in  the  outskirts  and 
relentlessly  challenged  any  one  who  ventured  too 
near. 

At  irregular  intervals  distinguished  persons, 
appointed  by  the  High  Priest  of  Amon  or  by 
the  King,  descended  on  the  places  unexpectedly. 
They  visited  the  hall,  opened  the  sarcophagus, 
examined  the  mummy,  clothed  it  with  a  new 
shroud  or  wrapping,  if  they  found  the  old  ones 
in  bad  condition,  and  usually  before  leaving 
wrote  an  account  of  their  proceedings  on  the 
wooden   cover   of  the   coffin   or  on   the   shroud 

105 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

itself.  Even  if  these  precautions  checked  the 
violation  of  the  tombs,  they  did  not  succeed 
in  entirely  preventing  it,  and  the  sacrilege  that 
professional  robbers  did  not  dare  to  risk  w^as 
often  accomplished  by  the  guards  themselves. 
They  were  underpaid,  ill-fed,  and  ill-lodged,  and 
only  performed  their  duty  from  fear  of  punishment, 
and  so,  as  soon  as  they  saw  an  opportunity  of 
plundering  the  Pharaohs  entrusted  to  their  care, 
they  profited  by  it  either  alone  or  in  partnership 
with  persons  outside.  It  is  not  unusual  to-day 
for  a  professional  excavator,  making  an  incursion 
into  forbidden  ground,  to  furnish  himself  vdth 
food,  water,  and  means  of  artificial  light  for 
several  days,  then  to  shut  himself  up  in  a  tomb 
and  not  to  stir  until  he  has  finished  despoil- 
ing it. 

The  predatory  spirits  of  former  days  did  not  do 
differently.  Once  shut  up  with  the  dead,  they 
stayed  as  long  as  was  necessary  to  rob  him  of  all 
he  possessed.  They  unwrapped  the  mummy  at 
leisure,  tore  off  its  necklaces,  bracelets,  rings, 
jewels,  and  at  need  bared  the  breast  in  the  hope 
of  finding  some  valuable  amulet.  Sometimes 
they  left  it  half-naked  and  bruised  on  the  ground ; 
sometimes,  to  save  the  guards,  their  accompHces, 
from  punishment,  they  put  everything  tidy  again, 
and  left  it,  outwardly  at  least,  as  if  it  had  not 

106 


Kings  at  the  Tomb  of  Amenothes  11. 

been  touched.  Indeed,  so  skilful  were  they  in 
that  sort  of  fraud,  that  unless  a  very  detailed 
inspection  was  made,  no  one  would  believe  that 
under  the  eminently  correct  wrappings  there 
was  merely  a  parcel  of  broken  bones,  supplemented 
with  palm  branches  or  pieces  of  wood.  The 
Pharaohs  thus  profaned  reposed  in  their  tombs 
till  about  the  tenth  century  B.C.,  and  then  the 
High  Priests  of  Amon  of  the  XXIInd  Dynasty, 
despairing  of  longer  preserving  them  from 
destruction,  resolved  to  get  rid  of  them  by 
hiding  them  in  places  so  secret  that  no  one 
would  be  able  to  hunt  them  out.  They  divided 
them  into  several  groups,  and  buried  them,  one 
at  the  south  of  Deir  el-Bahari,  another  in  the 
vault  of  Amenothes  II.,  others,  again,  in  recesses 
of  the  mountain,  where  they  will  certainly  be 
found  some  day.  And  so  they  ascend  to  the 
upper  air  after  2,800  years  of  tranquillity,  and  as 
soon  as  they  appear  cause  their  modem  guards 
as  much  anxiety  as  they  did  those  of  a  former 
day. 

One  question  is,  of  course,  put  forward  at  the 
moment  of  their  resurrection.  Are  they  to  be 
taken  to  Cairo  and  united  once  again  with  the 
members  of  their  family  who  since  1881  rest  in 
the  galleries  of  the  Museum,  or  is  it  better  to 
leave  them  where  they  are   to   show    travellers 

107 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Pharaoh  in  the  tomb  where  his  sons  laid  him  ? 
The  sight  of  the  royal  mummies  of  Gizeh  rouses 
in  the  visitors  a  curious  feeling,  partly  of  attrac- 
tion, partly  of  repulsion.  The  heroes  of  classic 
times,  those  of  Greece  and  of  Rome,  have  cast 
off  for  ever  their  mortal  coil,  but  the  actors  in 
the  old  Egyptian  drama,  their  elders  by  so  many 
centuries,  are  shown  to  us  with  all  the  substance 
of  the  body  they  inhabited,  flesh  and  bone, 
figure,  hair,  the  shape  of  the  head,  the  features 
of  the  face.  That  slender,  short  personage  is 
Thoutmosis  III.,  the  conqueror  of  Syria,  and 
the  most  formidable  of  the  Theban  Pharaohs, 
almost  a  dwarf  in  stature.  The  slim  hands  that 
Ramses  II.  peacefully  crosses  on  his  breast,  strung 
the  bow  and  manipulated  the  lance  for  a  whole 
spring  day  under  the  walls  of  Qodshou,  until 
his  determined  effort  brought  back  victory  to 
the  Egyptian  banners.  Setoui  I.  possesses  the 
serene  countenance  of  a  priest,  a  fact  that  did 
not  prevent  him  from  fighting  boldly  when  the 
call  came.  Ramses  III.,  on  the  other  hand, 
appears  like  a  stout,  heavy  rustic.  History, 
certainly,  gains  a  singular  reality  when  written 
in  the  very  presence  of  those  who  made  it,  and 
yet  the  advantages  for  many  are  more  than  out- 
weighed by  the  horror  with  which  this  funereal 
parade  fiUs  them.      It  is,  they  say,  a   want  of 

108 


Kings  at  the  Tomb  of  Amenothes  II. 

respect,  not  to  a  royalty  so  long  departed,  but 
to  humanity  itself,  to  exhibit  these  emaciated 
bodies,  wrinkled  and  blackened  skins,  grimacing 
faces,  torn  shrouds,  and  mummy  cloths  reduced 
to  parcels  of  rags  by  the  indiscretion  of  the 
archasologist.  They  deplore  the  stroke  of  fortune 
that  has  opened  to  us  this  charnel-house  of  kings, 
and  beg  that  they  may  be  spared  the  evil 
curiosity  of  the  loafer.  It  would  be  a  pious 
action  of  the  man  in  command  to  send  these 
Pharaohs  back  to  the  darkness  that  has  so  long 
protected  them,  and  since  the  mystery  of  their 
Theban  hiding-place  is  divulged,  to  assure  them 
a  retreat  in  one  of  the  most  sohd  of  the  Mem- 
phian  pyramids.  At  first  the  idea  seems  some- 
what attractive,  but  when  we  recall  to  mind 
that  the  pyramids  when  they  were  intact  were 
not  able  to  preserve  their  masters  from  desecra- 
tion, we  ask  ourselves  whether  those  same 
pyramids  now  they  are  in  ruins  would  offer 
better  protection  to  their  precious  inmates.  An 
authentic  king  in  the  antiquity  market  has  an 
incalculable  value,  and  all  the  excavators  in  the 
land  would  soon  enter  on  a  campaign,  each  to 
try  and  unearth  his  piece  of  the  dynasty.  It 
would  be  necessary  to  recommence  the  old  sentry 
rounds  and  inspections,  only  to  arrive  at  a  similar 
result  after  more  or  less  delay.     Ramses  II.  and 

109 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Setoui  I.  would  vanish  one  fine  day,  to  reappear 
after  a  while  in  some  eccentric  collection  at 
Sydney  or  San  Francisco.  Now  that  we  hold 
the  Pharaohs,  they  hold  us  in  their  turn,  and  we 
have  no  right  to  turn  them  away  from  our  halls 
at  the  risk  of  losing  them,  but  at  the  same  time 
we  ought  not  to  exhibit  them  in  a  way  that 
would  wound  any  one.  In  the  Museum  being 
built  for  us  is  a  hall  reserved  for  Mariette's  tomb  ; 
there  as  in  a  sort  of  chapel  they  ought  to  be 
placed,  by  the  side  and  under  the  protection  of 
the  great  scholar  who  did  so  much  to  revive  their 
names  and  spread  abroad  their  memory. 

Most  of  the  mummies  imprisoned  in  the  tomb 
of  Amenothes  II.  are  only  there  by  accident ; 
they  will  go  to  Gizeh,  near  the  kings  of  Deir  el- 
Bahari.  But  Amenothes  II.  will  not  depart :  he 
win  remain  in  his  hypogeum,  provisionally,  and  as 
a  trial,  in  company  with  four  mutilated  and  naked 
corpses  that  are  thought  to  be  those  of  human 
victims  sacrificed  on  the  day  of  his  burial.  So 
that  we  have  two  series  of  distinct  operations  to 
carry  out.  First  the  hypogeum  must  be  restored 
as  far  as  possible  to  the  condition  in  which  it 
was  at  the  time  of  its  discovery.  Then  we 
must  remove  the  Pharaohs  designed  for  exile, 
and  convey  them  across  the  plain  of  Thebes  to 
the  banks  of  the  Nile,  where  they  will  embark. 

110 


XI 

THE   TOMB  OF  AMENOTHES   II. 

The  tomb  of  Amenothes  II.  is  dug  out  in  the 
prolongation  of  an  enormous  fissure  which  cuts 
the  face  of  the  rock  vertically  in  its  whole 
height.  A  sandy  slope  of  mingled  stone  chips 
and  stone  dust  hides  the  opening.  The  plan 
is  the  same  that  prevailed  at  the  beginning  of  the 
XVIIIth  Dynasty,  and  with  slight  modifications 
served  for  Thoutmosis  III.  and  Thoutmosis  I., 
the  father  and  great-grandfather  of  the  sovereign : 
there  is  first  a  vertical  trench,  on  the  right  side  of 
which  was  a  staircase  with  clumsy  steps  for  the 
convenience  of  the  workmen  and  excavators ;  then 
in  the  west  waU  at  the  back,  a  steeply  sloping 
corridor,  bored  in  the  rock  with  great  exertion, 
without  inscriptions  or  decoration;  next  comes  a 
second  steep  staircase,  a  deep  shaft  of  about  24 
feet,  destined  to  bar  the  way  to  robbers,  and, 
beyond,  a  low  ante-chamber,  its  walls  and  ceiling 
scarcely  shaped  out,  divided  into  two  naves  of 
equal  dimensions  by  two  dumpy  pillars.     When 

111 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

M.  Loret  entered  it  wooden  statuettes  and 
the  remains  of  offerings  lay  scattered  over  the 
ground,  and  on  these  had  fallen  four  large 
boats,  between  two  and  three  yards  long, 
formerly  despoiled  by  thieves;  a  mummy  lay 
crosswise  on  one  of  them,  naked  and  bruised.  All 
the  small  objects  have  been  for  some  time  in 
the  Museum,  but  eleven  cases  remain  in  distress 
in  the  right  nave,  which  contains  the  bodies 
of  the  Pharaohs.  The  left  nave  is  almost 
entirely  filled  by  the  staircase  which  leads  to 
a  last  corridor,  formerly  strewn  with  a  Utter  of 
debris,  but  empty  now.  The  funeral  hall,  large 
and  high,  is  supported  in  the  middle  by  two 
rows  of  three  pillars  each.  The  ceiling  is  dark 
blue  dotted  with  yellow  stars  in  close  rows.  The 
journey  of  the  sun  in  the  region  of  the  hours 
of  the  night  is  developed  in  all  its  wanderings 
on  the  walls  in  three  superimposed  rows ;  in 
the  middle  is  the  celestial  Nile,  on  which  the 
sacred  boat  floats  without  either  oars  or  sails, 
strugghng  with  the  monsters  of  the  darkness ; 
above  and  below  are  the  banks  of  the  river 
and  the  mysterious  retreats  in  which  the  gods 
of  the  dead  and  their  Egyptian  subjects  vegetate. 
The  figures  are  boldly  but  summarily  drawn,  the 
hieroglyphics  are  hurriedly  engraved ;  it  is  like 
an  enormous  papyrus  stuck  on  the  wall  for  the 

113 


The  Tomb  of  Amenothes  II. 

guidance  of  the  sovereign,  and  in  fact  it  is  a  copy 
on  a  large  scale  of  the  "  Book  of  that  which  is 
in  the  Under  World,"  that  served  as  a  guide  to 
the  souls  during  their  peregrinations  beyond  the 
tomb.  There  they  may  see  the  faithful  re- 
presentation of  the  good  or  evil  creatures 
they  have  to  meet  in  the  domain,  they 
may  become  familiar  with  the  characters  and 
attributes  as  well  as  the  names  of  the  genii,  they 
may  read  the  formulas  which,  learnt  by  heart, 
will  ensure  a  free  passage  to  those  who  can 
repeat  them  without  error,  and  can  thus  be  certain 
of  never  being  in  danger,  either  on  earth  or  in 
heaven,  and  of  being  able  to  enjoy  the  privileges 
granted  to  properly  instructed  souls  wherever 
their  destiny  may  take  them.  The  ground  is 
dug  out  at  the  western  extremity,  and  a  few 
steps  set  closely  in  between  the  two  last  pillars 
lead  to  an  alcove  lower  than  the  rest  of  the  hall. 
The  sarcophagus  fills  the  centre,  a  fine  basin  of 
sandstone,  covered  with  a  red  plaster,  imitating 
the  granite  of  Syene;  the  cover  was  destroyed 
by  robbers  in  ancient  times,  and  pieces  of  it  are 
scattered  here  and  there.  It  still  contained  its 
wooden  coffin  with  the  mummy,  and  everywhere 
around  in  its  near  vicinity  little  figures  of 
blackened  wood,  fragments  of  glass  or  stone 
vases,  dried  wreaths  and  factitious  weapons  were 

113  H 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

heaped  together  in  confusion.  The  four  cells 
which  flank  the  vault  were  equally  crowded  with 
furniture  and  despoiled  corpses.  In  the  two  on 
the  left  were  earthen  jars  for  water,  wine,  beer, 
oil,  perfumes,  mummified  joints  of  meat  or 
mummified  poultry,  a  quantity  of  fruit  or 
cereals,  in  fact,  everything  that  the  Eg}rptian 
soul  required  for  its  nourishment.  The  first  of 
the  cells  on  the  right  offers  a  striking  spectacle, 
three  mummies  lying  side  by  side  among  the 
statuettes :  a  young  man,  a  child  of  twelve  to 
fourteen  years  old,  a  woman  still  adorned  with 
long,  silky  hair,  but  all  with  the  head  or  chest 
spUt  open,  like  servants  sacrificed  in  order  to 
provide  an  escort  for  the  sovereign  to  the  other 
world.  The  second  cell  was  walled  up.  It  con- 
tained the  nine  kings  that  the  high  priests  brought 
to  the  tomb  when  they  gave  up  the  attempt 
to  preserve  the  neighbouring  tombs  from  pillage. 
The  mummies  were  taken  out,  but  the  wall 
was  rebuilt  stone  by  stone  by  the  order  of 
M.  Loret,  and  the  hieratic  legends,  written  in 
black  ink  by  one  of  the  scribes  who  watched 
the  operation  about  the  tenth  century  b.c.,  can 
easily  be  seen. 

It  might  almost  be  said  that  the  old 
Egyptian  architect  foresaw  our  project,  and 
wished  to  render  its  accomplishment  easy.  Three 

lU 


The  Tomb  of  Amenothes  II. 

iron  gratings  or  three  balustrades  set  between 
the  pillars  and  the  walls  allow  us  to  transform 
the  alcove  into  a  distinct  hall,  and  so  to 
isolate  the  sarcophagus  and  save  it  from  the 
indiscreet.  Visitors  view  the  mummy  from 
above  at  a  distance  of  6  feet,  and  if  there  is 
sufficient  light,  no  detail  of  the  scene  need 
escape  them.  Afterwards  we  shall  put  the  three 
supposed  victims  in  their  primitive  positions, 
likewise  guarding  the  door  of  their  cell  with  a 
railing.  Shall  we  light  the  scene  by  electricity  or 
by  some  substance  like  acetylene  instead  of  the 
candles  or  magnesium  lamps,  the  smoke  of  which 
has  been  so  destructive  to  the  tombs  that 
have  long  been  opened  ?  Experience  will 
teach  us  the  best  method ;  for  the  moment 
we  have  to  carry  back  those  of  the  mummies 
who  are  to  remain  on  the  spot.  Amenothes  II. 
and  his  three  companions  descend  again  to  the 
vault,  borne  by  four  native  workmen.  With 
M.  Loret's  plan  in  his  hand,  Mr.  Carter  restored 
the  mummies  to  their  cell  in  the  old  order,  first 
the  man  leaning  against  the  wall,  then  the 
child,  then  the  woman;  the  business  took 
scarcely  half  an  hour. 

The  restoration  of  Amenothes  exacted  more 
thought  and  time.  If  the  coffin  was  laid  flat  in 
the  sarcophagus  it  would   disappear  entirely,  and 

115 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

the  visitors,  kept  at  a  distance  by  the  raihng, 
would  see  nothing.  It  was  necessary  to  raise  it 
so  that  its  cover  might  be  level  with  the  edge 
of  the  sarcophagus.  To  keep  it  in  that  position  a 
support  of  suitable  height  must  be  placed  under 
it.  While  waiting  for  the  carpenters  to  make 
the  requisite  trestles,  Mr.  Carter  piled  up  some 
of  the  blocks  which  barred  the  door  before  the 
irruption  of  the  ancient  thieves  into  the 
sarcophagus,  and  put  the  coffin  on  the  improvised 
support.  Three  hours  had  been  spent  in  re- 
instating the  sovereign  in  his  dwelling,  three 
unforgettable  hours  for  those  who  took  part  in 
the  work.  The  air  was  thick,  warm,  motionless, 
heavy  with  fine  dust,  and  impregnated  with  an  im- 
perceptible odour  of  musty  aromatics  ;  a  gradually 
increasing  sensation  of  oppression  in  breathing 
and  heaviness  of  head  was  felt,  there  was  an  over- 
whelming silence,  and  at  the  same  time  that  sort 
of  almost  religious  awe  which  makes  us  disUke 
speaking,  or,  if  speech  is  necessary,  makes  us 
talk  in  whispers.  A  few  pieces  of  candle  placed 
in  a  corner  vaguely  lighted  the  ante-chamber 
while  the  workmen  were  taking  the  Pharaoh  out 
of  his  modern  case.  With  their  bare  feet  and 
legs,  the  upper  part  of  the  body  naked,  a  soft 
linen  cloth  round  their  loins,  the  head  boxed  in 
their    tawny    takieh,    hke    the    figures     whose 

116 


The  Tomb  of  Amenothes  II. 

silhouettes  adorn  the  walls  of  the  Theban  tombs, 
the  Egyptians  of  to-day  seem  to  be  the 
Egyptians  of  long  ago,  resuscitated  in  order  to 
recommence  their  funereal  duties.  The  royal 
coffin,  lifted  without  a  sound,  passed  into  their 
hands,  and  moved  off  in  the  darkness  of  the 
staircase ;  it  slowly  traversed  the  vault,  descended 
the  steps,  slipped  into  the  sarcophagus,  fitted 
into  it  with  a  dry  cracking  sound,  and  for  an 
instant  I  thought  that  time  had  suddenly  gone 
backwards,  and  that  at  one  swoop  I  had 
travelled  back  thirty-four  centuries  to  be  present 
at  the  burial  of  Amenothes. 


117 


XII 

THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  ROYAL   MUMMIES 

The  removal  of  the  mummies  ought  to  be  done 
all  at  once,  in  a  single  day.  Some  of  the  coffins, 
made  of  thick  planks  of  close-grained  wood,  attain 
a  considerable  weight  and  are  difficult  to  handle, 
requiring  eight  men  at  least.  As  the  road  to  be 
traversed  between  the  tomb  and  the  river  bank 
is  over  five  miles  in  length,  it  will  be  wise  to 
provide  relays  several  times  during  the  march. 
Then  add  to  the  ordinary  workmen  the  chiefs  of 
the  squads,  the  guards,  a  few  carpenters  in  case  of 
accident,  some  water-carriers,  and  there  will  be  about 
a  hundred  lusty  fellows  to  send  into  the  funereal 
valley.  There  might  perhaps  have  been  difficulty 
in  finding  them  if  the  workshops  of  Karnak  had  not 
just  then  been  filled  with  men  accustomed  to  deal 
with  blocks  of  sandstone  heavier  than  the  heaviest 
of  our  kings.  M.  Legrain  kindly  put  them  at 
our  disposal,  and  on  January  12th,  at  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  picked  men  of  his  troop 
came    to    Biban-el-Molouk    furnished    with    the 

118 


OF  THE 


OF 


iSl'FORl 


The  Departure  of  the  Royal  Mummies 

ropes,  levers,  rollers,  hand-barrows,  and  all  the 
apparatus  required  for  the  work.  The  barrows 
stand  in  single  file  along  the  pathway  in  readiness 
for  their  load,  and  form  an  almost  uninterrupted 
line  from  the  tomb  of  Ramses  VI.  to  that  of 
our  Amenothes  II.  The  men,  for  whom  an 
expedition  of  this  kind,  so  different  from  their 
ordinary  employment,  is  a  sort  of  hoUday  excur- 
sion, remain  in  groups  near  the  barrows.  Some 
are  eating  or  drinking,  others  are  sleeping  in  the 
sun  as  a  provision  against  the  fatigue  to  come, 
others,  again,  hum  a  tune  or  tell  each  other  tales, 
some  reckon  up  the  value  of  the  Pharaohs,  and 
cannot  imagine  guineas  enough  to  arrive  at  it; 
bursts  of  quarrelling  and  of  laughter,  immediately 
suppressed  by  the  overseers,  sometimes  escape  from 
their  ranks.  A  few  hawks,  astonished  at  the 
noise,  hover  above  the  crowd,  uttering  shrill  cries. 
A  company  of  tourists,  whose  evil  star  has 
brought  them  to  the  tombs  that  day,  cannot 
believe  either  their  eyes  or  their  ears,  and  with 
a  stupefied  air  contemplate  the  spectacle  of  such 
unusual  activity. 

Now,  at  the  orders  of  Baskharoun,  two  selected 
gangs  glide  under  ground.  For  twenty-five  years 
Baskharoun  has  been  one  of  the  most  useful 
servants  of  the  Museum.  He  is  a  Copt  of  pure 
breed,  and  his  rough  features  remind  us  of  those 

119 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

of  certain  of  our  Pharaonic  statues.  Take  off 
his  blue  shirt,  his  turban,  his  full  trousers,  and 
his  red  babouches,  and  dress  him  in  the  striped 
waist-cloth,  the  close-fitting  cap,  the  rush  sandals, 
and  you  will  obtain  an  Egyptian  of  the  best 
period,  one  of  those,  if  you  Uke,  who  helped  to 
seal  up  Amenothes  in  his  vault.  Although  there 
is  no  appearance  of  it,  he  is  of  immense  strength, 
knocking  down  his  man  with  a  blow  of  the  fist, 
and  easily  moving  the  most  unHkely  weights. 
Once  at  Boulaq,  when  one  of  the  gigantic  statues 
of  Ramses  II.  while  being  moved  from  one  room 
in  the  Museum  to  the  other  lost  its  balance  on 
its  rollers,  he  held  it  for  a  whole  minute,  long 
enough  for  the  others  to  come  to  his  assistance 
and  set  it  right  again.  Here  it  is  less  brute 
force  that  is  required  of  him  than  skill  in  working 
in  a  confined  space,  and  in  moving  fragile  objects, 
as  these  thousand-years-old  coffins  must  be,  with- 
out knocking  them  against  the  walls  or  damaging 
any  of  their  contents.  Mr.  Carter  points  out  to 
him  the  imummy  that  is  to  go  first.  With  the 
tips  of  his  fingers,  almost  without  seeming  to 
touch  it,  Baskharoun  and  his  companions  move 
it  and  lift  it  above  the  shaft,  carry  it  along  the 
staircases  and  rough-hewn  corridors.  It  is  the 
inverse  of  its  former  journey,  from  darkness  to 
light,  from  the  gloomy  Amentit  to  the  land  of 

120 


The  Departure  of  the  Royal  Mummies 

the  Sun.  The  others  have  followed  by  the  same 
road  in  less  than  two  hours.  The  ante-chamber 
is  empty,  and  the  nine  kings,  restored  to  the 
upper  air,  lie  each  on  his  bier,  the  lighter  ones 
laid  flat  without  any  sort  of  fastening,  the  heavy 
ones  tied  to  the  trolley  with  ropes  as  a  precaution 
against  a  fall.  The  men  might  take  up  their 
burdens  at  once  and  carry  them  to  what  is  left 
of  their  Thebes  after  so  many  centuries  if  it  was 
not  necessary  first  to  make  their  hiding-place  neat. 
A  corpse  had  been  left  behind  that  the  large 
number  of  cases  had  prevented  from  being  put 
back  into  its  place  the  other  day — the  unfortunate 
creature  that  the  thieves  had  left  naked  on  one 
of  the  funerary  boats  of  Amendthes.  It  was 
carried  back  into  the  ante-chamber,  boat  and  all, 
near  the  first  pillar.  Its  disordered  hair,  bruised 
face,  and  the  traces  of  violence  visible  on  the 
chest  gave  it  a  horrible  aspect.  It  would  seem 
as  if  there  had  been  a  struggle  before  the  man 
succumbed.  Possibly  he  was  a  sentinel  who, 
surprised  by  assassins  at  the  entrance  of  his 
sovereign's  apartments,  had  been  mortally 
wounded,  and  had  died  on  the  spot  where  he 
had  fallen.  But  times  flies  while  we  are  effacing 
the  traces  of  our  work.  It  was  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  when,  all  our  preparations  finished,  we 
determined  to  leave  the  tomb.     At  the  first  signal, 

121 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

each  gang  of  men  shouldering  their  king,  the 
column  got  into  line  with  Baskharoun  at  the  head, 
M.  Legrain,  M.  Chauvin,  M.  Insinger,  and  the  few 
Europeans  who  had  been  present  bringing  up  the 
rear  to  the  right  and  left  on  donkey-back  and  horse- 
back. At  the  second  signal  it  began  to  move, 
at  first  slowly  and  in  silence,  then  faster  as  the 
men,  in  order  to  give  a  rhythm  to  their  march, 
intoned  the  traditional  invocation,  ''  Salle  an-nabi^ 
salle!''  ("Pray  to  the  Prophet,  pray!")  The 
advance  guard  reach  the  gorge  which  passes  out 
of  the  valley  into  the  Ouadi^n,  and  march  into  it 
to  the  sound  of  the  singing.  It  seems  as  if  one  of 
the  most  striking  pictures  of  the  tombs  has  taken 
bodily  form  and  descended  from  the  walls  into 
modern  life.  It  is  the  picture  that  represents 
the  funeral  procession,  and  more  particularly  that 
part  of  the  procession  containing  the  furniture 
and  equipment  of  the  dead  man.  There  were 
the  variegated  chests  carried  on  barrows  just  like 
the  cases  of  our  royal  mummies.  They  con- 
tained the  linen,  cloths,  jewels,  wigs,  sacre  doils, 
and  the  number  was  in  proportion  to  the  wealth 
of  the  personage  whose  funeral  they  followed. 

A  sort  of  vague  track  marks  the  whole  length 
of  the  Ouadien.  It  was  made  by  the  Egyptians 
of  the  Theban  epoch  in  order  to  facihtate  the 
approach    of    the    funeral     processions    of    the 

122 


The  Departure  of  the  Royal  Mummies 

Pharaohs  to  the  tombs.  Since  the  burials  there 
have  ceased  it  has  been  effaced;  and  although 
the  Service  des  Antiquit^s  cleared  it  of  the  most 
encumbering  obstacles  six  or  seven  years  ago  in 
preparing  for  a  probable  visit  of  the  Khedive,  it  is 
still  covered  with  chips  of  stone  and  pebbles 
sharp  enough  to  make  it  painful  for  those  who 
walk  over  it  barefoot.  Our  men,  rendered  awk- 
ward and  heavy-footed  by  the  burden  they  carried, 
stumbled  every  minute  against  a  sharp  piece  of 
rock  or  groaned  when  a  splinter  of  flint  cut  into 
the  skin.  The  sun  burnt  their  eyes,  the  wood 
of  the  htter  rubbed  their  ^shoulders,  and  although 
relays  succeeded  each  other  every  five  minutes, 
fatigue  and  depression  soon  laid  hold  of  them. 
At  the  end  of  the  first  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
they  mutinied,  encouraging  each  other  to  drop 
the  litters,  and  there  would  have  been  a  general 
stampede  had  not  the  all-powerful  Baskharoun  by 
shouts  and  gestures,  and  also  by  the  rod,  reduced 
his  men  to  obedience.  He  seemed  to  be  every- 
where at  once,  lending  his  shoulder  to  the  weak 
when  the  road  was  rough,  giving  the  malcontents 
a  shake  and  forcing  them  to  hum  a  march  tune. 
Although  a  Christian,  his  knowledge  of  the 
Musulman  saints  is  astounding.  He  is  the  first 
to  invoke  them,  and  as  soon  as  one  had  no  more 
weight  with  the  workmen,  he  immediately  invoked 

123 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

another,  perhaps  a  local  saint  like  the  Cheikh 
Aboul-Haggag  of  Louxor,  or  general  saints  of  the 
Moghrebins,  Arabs,  Syrians,  the  beatified  of  Irak 
and  of  Persia.  At  each  fresh  name  even  the 
most  fatigued  of  the  men  pulled  themselves 
together,  stiffened  their  backs,  and  walked  steadily 
on,  but  after  three  or  four  minutes  their  energy 
failed.  The  voices  died  away  one  after  the  other 
and  the  grumbling  was  redoubled,  and  there  were 
shght  attempts  at  revolt.  A  little  man,  his 
figure  hidden  by  the  long,  variegated  cloak  of  a 
Soudanese  dervish,  was  distinguished  for  his  laziness 
and  his  seditious  spirit.  If  one  of  us  had  not 
been  continually  at  his  side  to  watch  him,  he 
would  soon  have  deserted  his  post  and  caused 
his  companions  to  become  disaffected.  Perspiring, 
panting,  groaning,  shouting  in  some  way  or  other, 
the  procession  got  through  the  second  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile,  then  the  third.  At  the  last 
bend  the  trees  came  in  sight,  and  knowing,  there- 
fore, that  the  plain  was  near  at  hand,  the  courage 
and  spirits  of  the  men  revived.  The  refrains 
sounded  with  greater  volume,  backs  were 
straightened,  and  a  wag  chaffed  the  grumblers : 
"  WeU,  what  have  you  got  to  complain  of  ? 
Aren't  you  carrying  your  fathers,  the  Pharaohs  ? 
They  have  gold  with  them,  much  gold,  and 
you'll  have  some  of  it,   God  wiUing."     And  as 

124 


The  Departure  of  the  Royal  Mummies 

he  sees  that  1  am  listening  to  him :  "  Our  bacha 
this  evening  will  give  us  much  bakhshisch,  one 
piastre  bakhshisch,  two  piastres  bakhshisch,  won't 
you.  Sir  Pacha  ? "  The  troop,  who  perceived 
the  allusion,  repeated  in  chorus:  "One  piastre 
bakhshisch,  two  piastres  bakhshisch,  won't  you.  Sir 
Pacha?"  And  so  they  are  all  happy  till  the 
halt.  A  little  beyond  the  Temple  of  Gournah, 
near  the  village,  there  are  ten  minutes'  rest  for 
all,  and  most  rightly.  They  have  only  taken  an 
hour  and  a  quarter  to  do  the  two  and  a  quarter 
miles  of  the  ouady,  loaded  as  they  are.  The 
worst  part  of  the  business  is  over.  They  have, 
it  is  true,  to  traverse  the  causeway  that  dams 
the  irrigation  canal,  the  Fadilieh,  then  to  cross 
the  sandbanks  which  separate  the  western  river 
bank  from  the  place  where  the  water  flows  this 
year — that  is,  three  and  three-quarter  miles — but 
the  ground  is  soft  and  supple  and  does  not  hurt 
the  feet.  Surveillance  is  no  longer  needed,  so  we 
ride  on  fast  in  advance  to  prepare  the  last  part 
of  the  operation — the  embarkation. 

The  dahabieh  is  already  at  the  place  ap- 
pointed, standing  well  out  in  the  stream;  the 
shallowness  of  the  water  will  necessitate  the 
use  of  launches  to  put  the  cases  on  board. 
About  four  o'clock  the  increasing  sound  of 
rhythmic    chanting    announces    the    approach    of 

125 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

our  men,  and  almost  immediately  the  first 
of  them  can  be  seen  above  the  undulation  of 
the  sand;  observed  from  the  distance,  through 
clouds  of  dust  that  half  conceal  the  details,  our 
band  resembles  more  and  more  the  cortege  of  an 
Egyptian  funeral.  Thus  shouting  and  running,  it 
reached  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  in  order  to  join 
the  baris  who  carried  death  toward  the  west, 
to  its  eternal  abode.  There  was  the  same  mix- 
ture of  joy  and  woe,  the  same  sounds,  the  same 
invocations  to  saints  or  gods,  the  same  lack  of 
order,  the  same  jostling.  Every  moment  absurd 
accidents  disturbed  the  gravity  of  the  ceremony : 
a  porter  would  let  his  load  fall,  a  boat  in  turning 
would  strike  against  another  smaller  boat  and  ill- 
treat  it.  I  call  to  mind  the  episode  in  the  tomb 
of  Harmhabi,  in  which  figures  the  captain  of  a 
launch  upset,  with  the  offerings  he  was  taking 
on  board,  by  a  stroke  of  the  rudder  of  the  funeral 
cange,  and  suddenly  one  of  our  men  slips  and 
falls  just  as  he  is  getting  into  the  launch.  The 
case,  the  comer  of  which  he  was  holding,  falls 
with  him,  upsets  bearers  and  rowers,  but  for- 
tunately stops  before  falling  into  the  water,  and 
for  a  moment,  between  laughter  and  oaths,  it  is 
the  exact  scene  that  the  ancient  artist  had  drawn 
three  thousand  years  before.  An  hour  to  arrange 
the  nine  mummies  on  the  deck,  speeches  of  thanks, 

126 


The  Departure  of  the  Royal  Mummies 

and,  what  our  heroes  appreciate  more,  a  splendid 
tip  of  a  piastre,  a  whole  piastre  each,  and  then 
the  dahabieh  lifts  anchor,  moves  away  slowly, 
and  tugged  by  its  feluccas  towards  the  temple  of 
Louxor,  reaches  its  accustomed  anchorage  with  its 
royal  freight. 


127 


XIII 

KARNAK  AND  THE  WORKS  IN  THE  HYPOSTYLE 

HALL 

Slabs  of  earth  arranged  in  stories  in  order  to  get 
blocks  of  stone  60  feet  up,  derricks  like  those 
used  under  the  XlXth  Dynasty,  blocks  under 
transportation  on  acacia  runners  and  pulling  at 
the  ropes,  files  of  vigorous  fellahs,  the  blue 
galabieh  on  their  backs  or  the  white  drawers  on 
their  loins,  the  brown  takieh  on  their  heads :  if 
Ramses  II.  returned  to  inspect  the  works  going 
on  just  then  at  Karnak,  he  would  imagine  at  first 
that  nothing  had  changed  in  Egypt.  Most  of 
our  workmen  are  wearing  nearly  the  same  cos- 
tume as  his,  and  the  methods  employed  by  us 
for  moving  the  columns  upset  at  the  time  of  the 
catastrophe  of  October  3,  1899,  are  very  nearly  the 
same  as  those  employed  by  him  when  building 
them.  He  must  not,  however,  look  too  closely 
nor  try  to  regulate  the  work.  His  orders  issued 
in  excellent  Egyptian,  at  least  I  Uke  to  think  so, 
would  not  be  understood  by  our  overseers,   and 

128 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

M.  Legrain,  who  in  grey  jacket  and  mushroom- 
shaped  hat  was  directing  the  work,  would  in  no 
way  remind  him  of  the  late  High  Priest  of 
Amonra,  Baoukouni-khonsou,  King  of  the  Gods, 
who  presided  in  his  reign  over  the  building  at 
Thebes.  The  derricks  are  furnished  with  differ- 
ential pulleys,  of  the  play  of  which  he  would 
understand  nothing.  The  ease  with  which  the 
big  architraves  are  moved  on  the  Decauville 
trucks  would  appear  to  him  to  be  magic,  and  I 
do  not  know  how  we  could  explain  to  him  the 
mechanism  of  the  hydraulic  cranes.  We  had 
resolutely  excluded  costly  apparatus  and  the  per- 
fected machinery,  the  action  of  which  would  have 
been  too  rough  for  the  venerable  stones  with 
which  we  had  to  deal,  from  our  workshops.  But 
although  in  principle  we  adopted  the  ancient 
methods,  we  were  not  forbidden  to  combine  with 
them  those  modern  engines  which  enabled  us  to 
work  quickly  and  cheaply. 

After  the  first  feeling  of  stupefaction  had 
passed  away  and  we  could  regard  the  disaster 
coolly,  it  was  recognised  that  three  series  of 
operations  would  be  necessary  to  remedy  it. 
First  of  all,  the  five  columns  which  threatened 
to  fall  must  be  taken  down,  then  the  ddbris  of 
the  eleven  columns  that  had  already  fallen  must 
be  removed  and  put  away  very  carefully  so  as 

129  I 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

not  to  confuse  the  parts.  That  done,  there  would 
be  a  large  empty  space  in  the  north  aisle  of  the  ' 
Hypostyle  Hall,  which  would  have  to  be  tested 
yard  by  yard  to  ascertain  the  condition  of  the 
sub-structure,  and  to  decide  what  was  needed  to 
strengthen  it  before  begioning  the  restorations. 
A  committee,  composed  of  archseologists,  archi- 
tects, and  engineers,  would  be  sent  to  the  spot 
and  would  conduct  the  inquiry  at  their  leisure. 
When  it  had  sent  in  its  report,  the  Service  des 
Antiquit^s  would  carry  out  the  operations  recom- 
mended, and  proceed  to  put  up  again  all  that 
was  possible  of  the  fallen  columns.  The  Caisse 
de  la  Dette,  on  the  demand  of  the  Egyptian 
Government,  granted  a  Uberal  sum  of  money,  and 
M.  Legrain,  sent  to  Kamak  in  December,  1899, 
energetically  set  to  work.  The  aspect  of  the 
ruins  was  not  encouraging;  the  disjointed  tam- 
bours filled  up  the  north  nave,  and  five  shafts 
emerged  from  the  irregular  heaps,  but  so  bent 
and  out  of  the  perpendicular,  that  it  seemed  that 
they  too  must  fall  every  moment.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  sink  them  in  order  to  set  up  the  derricks 
at  the  height  of  the  capitals,  and  M.  Legrain 
hastened  to  begin  the  work.  By  the  end  of 
December,  1899,  the  abacus  of  the  most  danger- 
ous column,  a  square  slab  weighing  ten  tons,  had 
been  brought  down  and  sent  to  the  store.     The 

130 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

rest  quickly  followed,  and  all  seemed  to  be  going 
splendidly  when  an  incident  occurred  which 
seemed  to  prognosticate  a  new  disaster.  The 
northern  pier  of  the  pylon,  which  bounds  the 
Hall  on  the  west,  had  long  been  a  cause  of 
uneasiness.  It  had  seemed  to  be  giving  way 
in  1883  and  1884,  and  I  had  been  obliged  to 
shore  up  the  most  unsafe  portions.  The  posts 
with  which  I  had  then  supported  it  were 
destroyed  in  1895,  and  in  their  stead  the  low 
parts  of  the  wall  were  Uned  with  rubble-work 
in  stone  and  cement.  Did  the  disturbance  caused 
by  the  fall  of  the  columns  produce  a  movement 
in  the  masonry,  or  did  the  foundations,  eaten 
away  by  saltpetre,  suddenly  give  way  ?  About 
the  end  of  January,  1900,  the  whole  of  the  south 
front  split,  sank  down,  bent  outwards,  and  blocks 
began  to  pour  down  from  the  upper  courses  in 
such  quantities  that  we  deemed  it  prudent  to 
keep  tourists  away.  We  approached  the  Caisse 
de  la  Dette  again,  once  more  it  granted  the  sum 
of  money  demanded,  the  Office  of  PubUc  Works 
lent  us  its  chief  architect,  Manescalco-Bey,  who 
sketched  out  the  first  draft  of  a  method  of  shor- 
ing it  up,  then  M.  Legrain,  letting  the  taking 
down  of  the  columns  go  more  slowly,  proceeded  to 
receive  and  to  transport  to  the  place  of  the  work 
the  materials  dispatched  to  him  from  Cairo.     At 

131 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

the  beginning  of  April,  when  everything  was 
ready,  M.  Ehrlich,  a  German  engineer,  borrowed 
from  the  barrage  work  at  Assouan,  came  and 
helped  us  with  his  experience.  For  a  month 
and  a  half  there  were  two  independent  gangs 
of  men  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall,  that  of  M. 
Legrain  at  the  columns,  that  of  M.  Ehrlich  at 
the  pylon.  When  they  were  dismissed  on  May  23, 
1900,  the  threatening  columns  had  gone  to 
rest  in  peace  in  the  place  reserved  for  them  in 
the  store,  and  the  pylon,  boarded  up  the  whole 
of  its  height,  no  longer  inspired  fear. 

So  many  disturbances  of  the  ground  and  res- 
torations did  not  tend  to  make  Karnak  beautiful. 
Those  who  visited  it  previously  will  remember  the 
admirable  view  which  spread  before  them  when, 
arriving  by  the  river,  they  approached  the  temple 
by  the  triumphal  entry  of  the  west.  First  came 
the  avenue  of  Setoui  II.  with  its  rams  crowded 
one  against  the  other,  the  huge  pylon  of  the 
Ptolemies,  the  court  of  the  Ethiopians  and  its 
gigantic  column,  the  half-fallen  pylon  of  the 
Ramessides,  and  framed  between  its  two  towers 
the  central  aisle  of  the  Hypostyle  Hall,  then  the 
magnificent  chaos  of  granite  and  sandstone  blocks 
whence  the  two  obelisks  of  Thoutmosis  and  the 
Queen  Hatshopsouitou  stood  out :  no  other 
monument  in  the  world  gives  as  vivid  an  im- 
pression of  strength  and  immensity. 

132 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

To-day,  the  view  is  cut  in  the  centre  by  M. 
Ehrhch's  scaffolding,  four  stories  of  beams  thrown 
across  the  central  bay.  A  Decauville  railway  line 
winds  under  this  disconcerting  apparatus  and 
penetrates  into  the  Hall.  If  we  follow  it  we  come 
on  the  left  against  the  shore  of  dry  pebbles  topped 
with  sacks  of  sand  which  completes  the  efficacy 
of  the  woodwork,  then  we  confront  the  mound 
of  earth  heaped  up  by  M.  Legrain.  Tourists, 
knowing  little  about  the  accident,  have  assured 
me  with  conviction  that  the  Hall  was  more  beau- 
tiful formerly  and  that  it  would  have  been  better 
not  to  touch  it.  We  console  them  by  telling  them 
that  all  this  mess  is  only  transitory,  and  that  if  they 
will  come  back  in  four  or  five  years  we  shall  have 
finished  the  restorations  to  their  satisfaction.  They 
depart  in  bad  humour,  and  I  cannot  help  sympath- 
ising with  their  annoyance.  It  is  always  a  pity  to 
touch  a  monument,  even  when  necessity  compels, 
but  could  we  have  acted  differently  ?  I  have  often 
told  tourists  that  if  they  knew  the  precarious  state 
of  the  walls  underneath  which  they  stood  for 
hours  in  admiration,  they  would  not  dare  to  enter 
the  temple. 

The  foundations  have  given  way  without  show- 
ing any  appearance  of  such  a  state  of  things,  the 
blocks  of  stone  are  only  kept  in  place  by  a  miracle 
of  equilibrium,  the  architraves,  which  are  broken  in 

133 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

two  or  three  places,  are  literally  suspended  at 
30  to  60  feet  above  the  earth.  If  a  sparrow 
aUghts  on  them  we  fear  they  will  not  bear  the 
weight,  and  will  end  by  falling.  Slight  occurrences 
prove  every  moment  how  incapable  the  apparently 
most  solid  of  the  buildings  and  tombs  are  of  resist- 
ance. A  month  ago  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
ante-chamber  in  the  tomb  of  Setoui  I.  suddenly 
broke.  A  fortnight  after  one  of  the  sandstone 
beams  which  cover  the  right  lateral  sanctuary  of 
the  Temple  of  Khonsou  literally  melted  away  after 
thirty-six  hours'  rain,  and  a  week  later  a  portion 
of  the  ceiling  of  the  Hypostyle  Hall  of  Edfou  fell 
with  a  great  crash.  At  the  moment  there  was  no 
one  underneath,  and  a  panel  reduced  to  powder 
was  all  the  damage;  two  hours  earlier  or  later, 
tourists  would  have  been  visiting  the  place,  and  it 
is  impossible  to  say  what  disasters  we  should  have 
had  to  deplore.  It  is  therefore  high  time  to  take 
the  Egyptian  temples  in  hand  one  after  the  other, 
and  without  doing  anything  that  might  alter  their 
character,  to  undertake  works  that  may  preserve 
them  for  some  centuries  to  the  admiration  of  the 
I        world. 

\^         As  soon  as  we  approach   the   door,  the    ear  is 

^  iX^truck  by  a  loud  noise ;  the  tunes  to  which  Egyptian 

\     workmen  adapt  their  slightest  movements  are  soon 

recognised.     First  there  is  a  slow  bass,  the  chant  of 

134 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

navvies  at  their  work;  then  a  Kvely,  tripping  melody, 
that  of  the  children  who  are  helping  the  navvies  ; 
now  and  again  a  sound  rises  which  dominates  all 
the  others — the  voices  of  the  porters  who  are 
moving  an  enormous  block  of  stone.  Two  distinct 
gangs  share  the  field  of  work,  I  was  going  to  say 
the  field  of  battle.  The  first,  on  the  west  near  the 
pylon,  are  removing  the  earth  which  served  last 
year  to  bring  down  the  capitals  or  the  architraves, 
but  which  now  prevents  the  finding  and  extraction 
of  the  shafts.  It  contains  about  thirty  men. 
Arranged  in  an  irregular  line,  and  half  bent  over 
their  task,  they  ply  their  pickaxes  with  short,  sharp 
blows.  Most  of  them  are  natives  of  Karnak,  who, 
having  nothing  to  do  for  the  moment  either  in  the 
fields  or  in  the  house,  ask  nothing  better  than  to 
earn  the  high  wage  of  from  fivepence  to  seven- 
pence  in  the  service  of  the  AntikahJ  They  are 
engaged  by  the  week  or  the  day.  They  arrive 
every  morning  at  dawn,  the  touriah^  the  short- 
handled  pickaxe,  on  their  shoulder,  and  immediately 
set  to  work  under  the  surveillance  of  one  of  our 
native  workmen.  They  each  have  two  squads  of 
four,  five,  or  six  children,  who  are  hired  for  2Jd.  a 
day  per  head  on  condition  of  themselves  providing 
their  tool,  the  basket  of  palm  fibre  in  which  to 

»  The   people  in  Egypt  call  the  Service   des  Antiquites 
familiarly  by  the  term  Antikah, 

135 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

carry  away  the  rubbish.  Each  group  is  Hke  a  free- 
lance in  the  regular  companies  of  our  royal  armies. 
The  navvy  fills  the  basket  with  two  or  three  strokes 
of  his  pickaxe,  and  as  soon  as  a  squad  has  its  load 
complete,  it  goes,  running  and  singing,  to  empty 
it  into  a  Decauville  wagon  in  waiting  outside. 
Meanwhile  the  second  squad  is  loaded  in  its  turn, 
and  while  it  is  running  to  the  wagon  it  meets  the 
other  returning.  This  to-and-fro  movement,  once 
begun,  is  only  interrupted  at  noon  for  an  hour,  just 
time  to  eat  and  to  take  a  brief  rest,  and  then  it 
begins  again  and  continues  till  sunset.  Twenty 
years  ago  girls  were  found  in  these  squads,  but  now 
they  remain  at  home  and  we  have  only  boys. 
They  range  in  age  from  eleven  to  five,  but  all  are 
equally  skilful  and  strong,  all  dowered  with  a  shrill 
soprano  voice  and  a  throat  that  never  suffers  from 
hoarseness.  The  refrains  they  bawl  out  are  gener- 
ally unremarkable,  but  whenever  a  distinguished 
visitor  or  some  high  official  presents  himself,  one 
of  them  improvises  a  new  couplet  for  the  occasion, 
and  the  rest  repeat  it  in  chorus.  On  my  first  visit 
to  Egypt  the  boys  who  were  working  at  Louxor, 
and  who  saw  me  arrive  at  the  workshop  always  in 
a  jacket  with  big  pockets  and  under  a  large  green 
umbrella,  composed  a  couplet  in  my  honour  which 
they  rattled  out  without  fatigue  for  two  mortal 
hours :  ^'Bachet-na  taht  ech-chamsieh''  ("  Our  pacha  is 

136 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

under  the  umbrella ") ;  "  Bachet-na  abou  gabein  '* 
("Our  pacha  is  the  father  with  two  pockets").  Those 
children  are  now  men,  but  the  tradition  remains, 
and  whenever  I  appear  at  Karnak  the  children 
of  to-day  intone  the  chant  of  former  years. 

Looking  at  the  disproportion  between  the 
baskets,  which  hold  at  most  6  lbs.  or  8  lbs.  of  earth, 
and  the  mound  which  has  to  be  cleared  away,  we 
are  tempted  to  pity  our  fate  and  to  think  we  shall 
never  be  finished.  But  when  we  come  back  day 
after  day  and  see  the  results,  we  are  astonished  at 
the  rapidity  with  which  the  clearing  away  has  pro- 
gressed. It  is  a  veritable  ant-hill,  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  colossal  work  by  the  infinitely  little.  In 
five  minutes  two  wagons  are  full,  and  depart  in  all 
speed  in  the  direction  of  the  Oriental  door,  where 
we  are  filling  up  the  breaches  made  by  the  peasants 
in  the  girdle  wall  of  the  ancient  city.  Before  they 
have  time  to  get  back  others  are  setting  out  to 
rejoin  them  ;  there  is  all  day  a  perpetual  roUing  of 
w^agons.  The  toy  baskets  of  the  children  spread 
15,000  cubic  yards  of  earth  in  the  Hypostyle 
Hall  during  the  campaign  of  1900.  They  will  have 
removed  the  same  quantity  when  the  campaign  of 
1901  is  ended. 

The  second  gang  consists  only  of  men,  about 
ten  porters  brought  from  Cairo,  and  about  thirty 
strong  fellows  recruited  at  Louxor  and  Karnak. 

137 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

It  works  under  the  orders  of  Baskharoun  Awad, 
who  helped  us  so  admirably  last  year  to  remove 
the  kings  from  the  tomb  of  Amen6thes,i  and  who 
has  moved  more  stones  than  any  one  in  the 
Museum.  Each  of  the  columns  consists  of  thirteen 
tambours  divided  in  two  segments  of  equal 
dimensions,  viz.,  twenty-six  segments  of  5  tons,  plus 
an  abacus  of  10  tons,  the  whole  column  weighing 
140  tons ;  the  intact  architraves  weighing  from  35 
to  40  tons.  Reckoning  that  we  have  sixteen 
whole  columns  and  eight  fragments  of  columns 
to  raise  before  our  work  is  done,  it  is  easy  to 
understand  that  if  we  wished  to  give  up  the 
ground  in  time  to  be  of  use  to  the  Commission 
entrusted  to  examine  the  state  of  the  foundations, 
we  could  not  afford  to  lose  a  minute.  Here  again 
chance  visitors  imagine  that  the  effort  does  not 
correspond  vn\h  the  magnitude  of  the  task.  They 
see  about  twenty  men  stirring  around  a  very  heavy 
block.  Some  are  slightly  Ufting  it  with  wooden 
levers,  others  place  runners  beneath  it,  and  when 
they  have  slipped  in  the  number  required,  they 
yoke  themselves  to  the  ropes  and  pull  it  along  in 
cadence.  The  mass  advances  a  few  inches,  knocks 
up  against  a  neighbouring  fragment,  nearly  falls ; 
the  men  immediately  put  it  right,  and  begin  to 

'  Cf.  Chapter  XII. 
138 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

draw  it  again.  Half  an  hour,  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  sometimes  more,  passes  before  they  succeed 
in  bringing  it  near  a  Decauville  truck.  It  is 
Hfted  on  to  it  with  great  difficulty,  and  a  special 
squad  wheels  it  away  into  the  store,  while  its  own 
men  with  Baskharoun's  gang  begin  work  on  a 
fresh  segment.  The  space  produced  each  time  is 
hardly  noticeable,  and  yet  by  the  end  of  the  day 
six  segments  of  5  tons  each  have  disappeared. 
The  pieces  of  architraves  and  the  abaci  required 
rougher  treatment,  but  they  too  end  by  yielding. 
When  after  being  away  for  a  week  we  take  note  of 
the  progress  made,  we  see  that  the  heap  is  a  yard 
less  in  height  and  that  a  large  portion  of  the 
Hypostyle  Hall  is  free  up  to  the  panelling. 
Nothing  equals  the  endurance  of  our  men,  unless  it 
be  the  suppleness  with  which  they  adapt  their 
action  to  the  position  of  each  block,  to  its  shape, 
dimensions,  and  to  the  position  of  the  neighbour- 
ing blocks.  When  they  come  to  the  workshops 
for  the  first  time  it  does  not  need  a  long 
apprenticeship  before  they  are  as  good  as  their 
comrades,  and  after  two  or  three  days  they  are  fit 
for  the  most  complicated  pieces  of  work.  It 
would  seem  that  they  know  by  intuition  the  exact 
point  in  each  stone  with  which  it  is  best  to  begin 
in  order  to  ensure  the  greatest  result  with  the 
smallest    effort.     They    never    break    or    injure 

139 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

anything,  and  get  through  all  dangers  without 
serious  accident.  Two  or  three  grazed  hands,  two 
or  three  sprained  feet  make  up  all  the  casualties  in 
a  six  months'  campaign.  Much  of  the  skill  acquired 
by  their  ancestors  in  the  service  of  the  Pharaohs 
has  remained  in  their  blood. 

It  was  necessary  to  store  the  pieces  without 
danger  of  confusing  them,  and  M.  Legrain 
admirably  succeeded  in  so  doing.  To  the  north 
of  the  Hypostyle  Hall,  between  the  wall  of 
Setoui  I.  and  the  temple  of  Phtah,  was  a  flat 
space,  and  it  was  there  that  he  made  his  depot. 
The  position  of  each  column  was  indicated  in 
length  on  the  ground,  and  the  position  of  each 
tambour  for  each  column.  A  number  of  circles  of 
small  stones  were  made  in  advance  and  represented 
the  courses  of  masonry.  As  soon  as  a  piece  was 
detached  it  was  marked  with  the  number  of  the 
column  and  with  that  of  the  course  of  masonry  of 
which  it  formed  a  part  in  that  column,  then  it  was 
enclosed  in  the  corresponding  circle  of  stones.  A 
plan  continually  filled  in  showed  the  progress 
made  from  day  to  day.  Only  two  or  three  whole 
columns  were  found,  and  they  were  left  on  the 
spot  to  await  the  moment  of  being  set  up  again. 
The  others  were  so  terribly  destroyed  by  their  fall 
that  the  pieces  are  mingled  in  inextricable  con- 
fusion.    The  workmen  attack  the  stones  as  they 


Karnak  and  Works  in  the  Hypostyle  Hall 

come,  and  take  them  out ;  then  M.  Legrain  has  to 
decide  to  which  column  they  belong  and  to  fasten 
each  in  its  respective  place.  Where  they  are 
intact  or  only  slightly  injured,  there  is  but  little 
hesitation  and  the  difficulty  is  soon  overcome. 
Unfortunately  many  of  them,  those  that  had 
already  suffered  from  age  or  weather,  were  broken 
in  falling,  some  even  had  crumbled  into  small 
pieces  and  only  shapeless  chips  and  lumps 
remained.  Still  it  was  possible  to  define  the  place 
that  most  of  the  debris  held,  at  least  those  that 
possessed  any  fragment  of  painting  or  of 
hieroglyphics.  We  had  to  discuss  the  best  means 
to  take,  whether  to  readjust  them  and  join  them 
sufficiently  safely  with  cement  to  form  a  soUd  mass 
capable  of  supporting  the  upper  courses  without 
being  crushed  by  the  weight,  or  if  it  would  be 
necessary  to  substitute  blocks  of  new  stone  for  the 
damaged  ones.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof,  and  when  the  business  of  setting  up  the 
columns  has  to  be  taken  in  hand,  we  shall  try  to 
act  in  each  particular  case  in  the  best  possible  way 
that  circumstances  permit.  At  the  moment  it  was 
necessary  to  get  rid  of  the  mass  of  ruins  that  filled 
the  Hypostyle  Hall,  to  classify  and  co-ordinate  the 
fragments,  to  piece  together  the  dislocated  units  in 
a  safe  spot,  and  to  arrange  them  so  that  we  might 
easily  be  able  to  lay  our  hands  on  them  when 

141 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

required.  This  is  more  than  half  accomplished, 
and  I  hope  that  in  ten  weeks  from  now  ^  M. 
Legrain  will  be  able  to  give  over  the  ground  quite 
cleared  to  the  examination  of  the  Commission. 

'  Written  in  January,  1901. 


142 


XIV 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  THE  THEBAN  PHTAH  AT 
KARNAK 

M.  Legrain  did  not  find  the  earth  he  needed 
in  one  of  the  uninteresting  heaps  of  rubbish  that 
encumber  the  land  at  Karnak.  He  found  it  in  the 
ruins  extending  at  the  north-east  along  the  girdle 
wall,  and  he  thus  brought  to  light  one  of  the 
prettiest  temples  imaginable,  that  of  the  Theban 
Phtah.  Mariette  had  sent  a  few  workmen  into 
the  place,  and  obtained  thence  several  valuable 
monuments,  that  is,  five  or  six  panels  with 
inscriptions.  Since  his  death  the  site  had  been  left 
to  itself.  A  few  Egyptologists  may  have  carelessly 
glanced  at  it,  not  from  real  interest  but  in  order  to 
say  that  they  had  neglected  nothing  that  was  to  be 
seen  at  Karnak.  The  excavation  is  not  finished 
and  the  exterior  dependencies  are  still  buried,  but 
the  main  building  is  free,  and  it  deserves  to  be 
visited  by  the  curious  traveller  and  studied  by  the 
expert. 

It  touches  one  of  the  posterns  of  the  town  that 
we  freed  on  the  same  occasion.     Its  outer  wall  ran 

143 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

for  about  150  feet  along  a  street  which,  starting 
from  the  postern  gate,  went  to  join  obhquely  the 
north-east  corner  of  the  Hypostyle  Hall.  The 
gateway  was  of  Gebelein  sandstone ;  it  stood  up 
straight,  surmounted  by  a  bent  gorgerin,  and  the 
sculptured  and  painted  uprights  stood  out  strongly 
on  the  whitewash  with  which  the  brick  wall  was 
covered.  It  led  through  a  series  of  similar  gate- 
ways and  small  courts  to  a  portal  supported  by 
four  columns  with  highly  decorated  capitals, 
behind  which  stood  the  pylon,  a  miniature  pylon, 
hardly  24  or  27  feet  high,  with  a  rectangular 
opening  and  two  towers.  Beyond  the  pylon  was 
a  very  small  open-air  court,  then  a  pronaos  with 
two  columns,  a  Hypostyle  Hall,  and  lastly  the 
sanctuary  flanked  by  two  chapels  for  the  members 
of  the  local  triad  ;  it  is,  in  fact,  a  complete  temple. 
All  the  parts  are  covered  with  sacred  pictures  and 
inscriptions,  many  of  which  still  preserve  their 
brightness  of  colour.  The  exterior  of  the  aisles 
had  received  no  official  decoration,  but  the  piety  of 
the  inhabitants  had  sketched  sacred  scenes  or 
engraved  pious  formulas  on  it. 

There,  besides  Phtah,  his  wife,  Sokhit,  the 
goddess  with  the  head  of  a  lioness,  was  wor- 
shipped, and  their  son  Imouthes,  the  patron 
of  scholars,  as  well  as  an  old  Theban  scribe  of 
the    XVIIIth     Dynasty,    Amenothes,    son     of 

U4 


Temple  of  the  Theban  Phtah  at  Karnak 

Pahapi,  whom  the  people  almost  canonised  for 
his  fame  in  magic'  After  accomplishing  their 
duties  in  the  temple,  the  most  fervent  of  the 
faithful,  those  at  least  who  had  obtained  some 
special  favour  by  the  power  of  Phtah  or  by  the 
intercession  of  his  companions,  either  themselves 
engraved  or  paid  some  one  to  engrave  for  them 
a  bas-relief  on  the  outer  walls  of  the  sanctuary, 
which  showed  them  in  prayer  before  one  or  other 
of  the  divinities.  Some  of  these  ex  voto  are  in 
quite  good  style  and  do  honour  to  the  sculptors 
of  the  Gr^eco-Roman  period.  The  greater  number, 
however,  make  no  claim  to  be  art  and  are  the  work 
of  the  dedicator  himself,  figures  of  gods  out  of  the 
perpendicular,  sgraffite  in  awkward  hieroglyphics, 
portraits  of  worshippers  who  resemble  in  a  most 
unfortunate  way  the  figures  chalked  by  street  boys 
on  old  walls  in  European  cities.  Doubtless  Phtah 
and  Imouthes  would  forgive  the  poverty  of  execu- 
tion in  consideration  for  the  feeling  which  prompted 
it,  and,  in  fact,  faith  was  strong  among  the  poor 
folk  who  inhabited  the  ruined  Thebes  during  the 
imperial  epoch.  Amonra  certainly  still  monopolised 
most  of  their  veneration,  and  he  remained  the 
master-god  of  their  city.  But  his  temple  had  been 
half   destroyed  by  the  mercenaries  of   Ptolemy 

'  The  strange  history  of  this  personage  is  briefly  related 
in  "  New  Light  on  Ancient  Egypt,"  chap.  xxv. 

145  K 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Lathyrus  at  the  beginning  of  the  first  century  B.C., 
during  the  revolt  of  Upper  Egypt  in  which  Thebes 
definitely  succumbed,  and  was  not  in  a  condition  to 
serve  for  regular  worship.  Its  courts,  its  hypostyles, 
its  limestone  and  granite  chambers,  its  corridors,  were 
almost  as  much  encumbered  with  dirt  and  rubbish 
as  they  are  now.  The  secondary  temples  sufficed 
for  the  needs  of  the  moment,  and  they  alone  were 
frequented  by  what  remained  of  the  population. 
Phtah  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  that 
prospered  under  the  first  Emperors,  but  he  was 
soon  after  abandoned.  The  roofs  of  his  temple  fell 
in,  its  portal  and  monumental  gateways  gave  way, 
sand  and  bricks  fallen  from  the  neighbouring  wall 
filled  up  its  courts.  At  the  moment  when  paganism 
ended  it  was  in  such  a  bad  state  that  the  Christians 
disdained  to  establish  themselves  there  and  trans- 
form it  into  a  church. 

To  that  circumstance  we  owe  the  possession  of  its 
bas-reliefs  and  inscriptions  almost  intact.  Certainly 
here  and  there  the  personages  lack  limbs,  and  the 
inscriptions  are  mere  fragments  of  lines,  but  there 
is  no  absolute  defacement  of  the  inscriptions  nor 
systematic  destruction  of  the  figures,  and  the 
history  of  the  building  can  still  be  read  on  the 
walls.  The  kings  of  the  Xlth  and  Xllth  Dynasties 
are  actually  the  most  ancient  of  the  Pharaohs  of 
whom  we  have  records,  but  they  did  not  found  it ; 

146 


Temple  of  the  Theban  Phtah  at  Karnak 

they  only  repaired  or  restored  it.  Every  city  in 
Egypt  liked  to  entertain  the  master-gods  of  other 
cities.  Thus  Thebes,  placed  under  the  protection 
of  Amon,  gave  hospitality  to  Phtah,  the  supreme 
divinity  of  Memphis,  and  it  was  by  way  of  return, 
for  Memphis  had  done  as  much  for  Amon.  How- 
ever, the  first  sanctuary  of  Theban  Phtah  was 
only  an  oratory.  Neglected  during  the  cen- 
turies of  misery  that  followed  the  invasion  of  the 
Shepherd  Kings,  it  was  in  a  deplorable  condi- 
tion at  the  beginning  of  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty, 
when  Thoutmosis  III.  thought  of  remedying  the 
destruction.  He  rebuilt  it  with  the  money  he  had 
gained  during  his  Syrian  campaigns,  and  enriched 
it  with  splendid  gifts,  a  list  of  which  is  preserved 
on  a  stela.  He  respected  the  altars  consecrated  by 
his  ancestors,  but  he  built  around  them  the  halls 
we  see  to-day,  and  multiplied  there  his  own  image. 
The  king,  who  may  be  seen  on  every  part  of  the 
walls  offering  wine,  milk,  water,  bread,  and  fruits  to 
the  mummy  of  Phtah,  to  the  lioness-headed  goddess 
Sokhit,  to  the  lord  Amonra  and  his  wife  Maout, 
is  Thoutmosis  III.  in  twenty  postures  and  in 
twenty  different  costumes.  The  relief  is  delicate, 
the  action  joyful,  the  expression  of  the  faces 
smiling,  the  colour  bright  enough  for  us  to  guess 
what  it  must  have  been  like  formerly.  The  god 
enjoyed    his    good    fortune    in   peace    for  about 

147 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

a  century,   and   then  persecution    raged    against 
Amon.     The  fanatic  Khouniatonou  pursued  him 
even  unto  the  house  of  Phtah,  erased  his  name 
and   his   emblems   wherever   he  found  them,  and 
there,  as  elsewhere,  did  so  much  damage  that  the 
halls  remained  as  though  dishonoured.     When  the 
heresy    disappeared,   Setoui    I.    touched    up    the 
damaged  pictures  and  inscriptions  after  a  fashion, 
Phtah     took     up     again     the     routine     of     his 
monotonous  life,  and  continued  it  for  eight  or  nine 
centuries  without  any  notable  occurrences.     But 
his  good  fortune  decreased  with  that  of   Thebes, 
his  property  was  seized  during  the  civil  wars  or  the 
Assyrian  and  Persian  invasions,  his  revenues  were 
reduced  to  nothing,  his  walls  fell  into  decay,  and  he 
was  at  the  last  extremity  when  the  Ptolemies  took 
upon  themselves  the  charge  of  settling  the  destinies 
of  Egypt.     Their  rule  was  favourable  to  him,  for 
they  rebuilt  his  pylon,  his  portal,  his  monumental 
gateways,   the  brick  rampart  which  formed  the 
boundary  of  his  domain.     They  certainly  had  a 
right  to  inscribe  their  titles  on  what  they  restored, 
but    by    a    strange    derogation    from    Egyptian 
custom  they  only  partly  profited  by  it.      If  we 
examine  the  pictures  which  are  introduced  on  the 
exterior  of   the  bay  of   the  pylon,  we  read  the 
protocol  of  Thoutmosis  III.  and  that  of  Setoui — 
the  first  would  have    built    the    monument,  the 

148 


Temple  of  the  Theban  Phtah  at  Karnak 

second  would  have  restored  it — and  at  the  same 
time  easily  recognise  in  these  works  of  a  so-called 
Pharaonic  epoch  the  well-characterised  peculiarities 
of  Ptolemaic  art.  We  see  the  soft  round  prominence, 
the  slightly  flabhy  muscling,  the  thick  contours, 
and  the  neutral  and  often  stupid  expression  of  the 
face,  the  loose  appearance  of  the  body  which  is 
usual  from  the  beginning  of  the  Said  renaissance, 
and  the  hieroglyphics  themselves,  carefully  as  they 
are  cut,  in  no  way  resemble  those  of  the  XVIIIth 
or  XlXth  Dynasty.  Only  an  artist  living  under 
the  Ptolemies  could  have  executed  those  sculp- 
tures, and  yet  he  attributes  them  to  sovereigns 
much  more  ancient.  What  reason  had  those  who 
commissioned  his  labour  so  greatly  to  contravene 
traditional  etiquette  and  to  make  the  pylon  they 
were  setting  up  pass  for  the  work  of  a  Pharaoh  of 
the  XVIIIth  Dynasty  ? 

From  the  day  of  his  accession  the  first  Ptolemy 
set  his  mind  on  winning  the  affection  of  his  people 
by  his  profound  respect  for  the  native  religions, 
and  his  successors  continued  to  imitate  him. 
Wherever  the  Persians  had  caused  ruins  they 
repaired  them  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  and  to 
their  political  piety  the  cities  of  the  Said  owe  the 
possession  of  their  magnificent  temples,  Denderah, 
Edfou,  Ombos,  Philas.  Thebes  naturally  attracted 
their  attention,  and  not  only  such  buildings  as 

149 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

Louxor  or  Karnak  offered ;  their  solicitude  did 
not  neglect  the  chapels  scattered  through  the 
town,  and  that  of  Phtah  profited  like  the  others. 
The  sacerdotal  colleges,  encouraged  by  their 
liberality,  at  the  same  time  as  they  repaired  the 
walls  attempted  to  restore  the  ancient  fortune  of 
the  gods,  but  there  they  met  with  serious  difficulties. 
Not  only  had  the  sacred  property  been  seized 
by  kings  or  private  individuals,  but  the  acts  of 
donation  and  the  title-deeds  which  would  have  made 
it  possible  to  claim  restitution  were  destroyed  or 
lost.  The  clergy  set  to  work  above  all  to  recon- 
stitute their  archives.  They  collected  wherever 
they  could  documents  which  seemed  to  them  to 
commemorate  some  gift  of  a  Pharaoh,  and  when 
authentic  documents  were  not  forthcoming  they 
did  not  hesitate  to  manufacture  apocryphal  ones. 
Criticism  of  inscriptions  was  not  then  highly 
developed,  and  the  people  accepted  with  entire 
creduhty  all  the  fables  told  them.  We  see  here 
and  there  forged  archaic  inscriptions,  in  which 
Pharaohs  of  the  most  diverse  Dynasties,  those  even 
of  the  1st  or  Ilnd,  related  how  they  had  assigned 
such  or  such  lands,  such  or  such  revenues,  yearly 
pensions  of  bread  and  perfumes,  oxen,  stuffs,  wine, 
precious  metals  to  such  or  such  a  local  god  who 
had  saved  the  whole  country  from  famine  or 
plague,  who  had  put  an  end  to  a  dangerous  war  by 

150 


Temple  of  the  Theban  Phtah  at  Karnak 

means  of  an  eclipse,  or  who  had  freed  a  daughter 
of  a  foreign  king  from  the  evil  spirit  that  possessed 
her.  The  clergy  of  the  Theban  Phtah  acted  like 
the  rest,  and  M.  Legrain  brought  to  light  in  the 
courts  part  of  the  doubtful  architrave  that  they 
had  placed  there.  It  consists  of  five  stelas  in 
moderate  preservation,  which  all  show  an  illustrious 
Pharaoh  in  adoration  before  the  god.  The  most 
ancient  was  already  only  a  mere  fragment  when  the 
priests  obtained  possession  of  it,  but  a  fragment  of 
the  greatest  value.  It  showed  that  an  Antouf  of  the 
Xlth  Dynasty  had  already  associated  Phtah  with 
Amon  and  Maout,  the  patrons  of  Thebes.  The 
next  stela  is  a  veritable  deed  of  gift  by  which 
Thoutmosis  III.  grants  Phtah  an  income  to 
celebrate  a  solemn  fete  in  his  honour  every  year. 
Damaged  in  parts  under  Khouniatonou,  it  was 
re-engraved  under  Setoui  I.,  and  is,  in  the  main, 
complete.  The  three  last  Stelae  are,  like  the  first, 
only  fragments  of  rather  confused  inscriptions, 
and  only  one  among  them  has  the  value  of 
a  title-deed,  that  in  which  Setoui  sets  forth 
how  it  came  into  his  mind  to  reconvey  to  the 
god  what  he  had  been  despoiled  of  by  the  heretic 
princes.  The  restoration  of  the  pylon  in  the 
names  of  Thoutmosis  III.  and  of  Setoui  I.  was 
destined  to  confirm  the  testimony  of  these  stelae  : 
where  those  declared  that  the  two  sovereigns  had 

151 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

worked  for  the  greatest  glory  of  Phtah,  the  up- 
rights of  the  gateway  exhibited  their  portrait  from 
the  very  threshold  and  proved  that  they  spoke  the 
truth.  It  is  most  probable  that  the  clergy  invented 
nothing  on  that  head.  They  had  only  to  restore 
a  decoration  that  had  really  dated  from  the 
Theban  age,  but  which  was  now  destroyed,  or 
which  had  at  least  become  too  indistinct  to  prove 
anything  with  certainty.  The  forgery  here  does  not 
consist  in  entirely  fabricating  a  document,  but  in 
replacing  the  primitive  work  by  a  copy  with  the 
idea  of  giving  it  the  appearance  of  the  original 
itself. 

In  clearing  out  the  chamber  which  opens  on 
the  right  of  the  sanctuary,  there  were  picked  out 
from  the  heaps  of  sand  fragments  of  black  granite, 
evidently  the  remains  of  two  or  three  idols 
destroyed  by  the  early  Christians  ;  a  lioness's  head 
still  intact  proved  that  there  had  once  been  there 
a  grim  Sokhit,  Phtah's  beloved,  the  one  of  his 
wives  whom  he  most  often  associated  with  himself 
in  his  worship.  M.  Legrain  patiently  sorted  the 
fragments,  and  succeeded  in  piecing  together 
a  complete  image  of  the  goddess.  She  really 
looks  most  attractive ;  and  although  no  king's  name 
is  to  be  foimd  on  her,  she  doubtless  belongs  to 
the  XVIIIth  Dynasty,  and  goes  back  to  the 
Amenothes  III.  who  dedicated  several  hundred 

152 


Temple  of  the  Theban  Phtah  at  Karnak 

statues  to  Sokhit  in  the  sanctuary  of  Maout  alone. 
Replaced  in  her  old  position  at  the  back  of  the 
hall,  she  produces  a  deep  impression  on  visitors, 
who,  entering  the  doorway  without  suspecting  her 
presence,  suddenly  fall  "under  the  place  of 
her  face,"  according  to  the  phrase  usual  in  such 
cases  in  the  religious  inscriptions.  The  natives 
have  a  terror  of  her  which  daily  increases.  They 
declare  that  she  stares  at  them  from  the  empty 
sockets  of  her  eyes  when  they  enter  her  chamber 
and  when  they  leave  it:  she  notes  their  dress, 
their  gait,  their  features,  their  voice,  in  order  to 
recognise  them  later  at  need.  They  will  soon 
declare  that  she  does  not  remain  in  her  place 
during  the  night,  but  secretly  leaves  it  and  prowls 
about  the  ruins  seeking  some  one  to  devour. 
Until  now  all  the  monuments,  statues,  naos, 
stelse,  sarcophagi,  mummies,  unearthed  in  the 
course  of  the  excavations,  have  been  sent  to  the 
Museum  without  delay,  provided  that  their  weight 
or  dimensions  did  not  fix  them  immovable  to  the 
spot.  The  people  of  Karnak  impatiently  await  the 
hour  when  we  shall  rid  them  of  this  disquieting 
person,  but  I  fear  that  hour  will  not  strike  for  them 
as  soon  as  they  wish.  Indeed,  I  believe  that  it  is 
time  to  drop  the  custom,  and  I  hope  we  shall  be 
able  to  leave  on  the  spot,  if  not  all  the  objects 
found,  at  least  those  which  can  be  saved  from  the 

153 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

rapacity  of  the  natives  or  from  the  covetousness 
of  foreign  collectors.  Amenothes  II.  furnished  an 
example  last  year  ^  when  we  refused  to  move  him 
from  Biban-el-Molouk.  Sokhit  shall  not  leave  the 
chapel  assigned  to  her  in  the  harem  of  her  divine 
husband,  and  if  my  attempt  succeeds,  Khonsou 
will  not  desert  Thebes  for  Gizeh.  The  temples 
will  be  gradually  repopulated,  and  will  become 
what  they  were  formerly,  the  house  in  which  the 
gods  dwelt,  visible  to  mortal  eyes  in  aU  their 
many  and  various  forms.^ 

'  Cf.  Chapters  X.,  XI.,  and  XII. 

*  I  was  not  able  to  carry  out  my  intentions.  The  next 
year  (1902)  men  of  the  Cheikh  Abd-el-Goumah  got  into  the 
tomb  of  Amenothes  II.,  robbed  the  royal  mummy,  stole 
the  boat  mentioned  in  Chapters  XI.  and  XII.,  and  although 
the  men  were  known,  they  were  not  punished.  Both 
Amenothes  II.  and  the  Sokhit  remained  in  their  places,  but 
all  fresh  monuments  not  sufficiently  protected  by  their  size 
and  weight  were,  in  accordance  with  the  old  custom,  hence- 
forward dispatched  to  the  Museum. 


154 


XV 

KARNAK  :    LEGENDS  AND   SUPERSTITIONS 

Our  workpeople,  men  and  boys,  are  nearly  all 
recruited  in  Karnak:  only  a  few  come  from 
Louxor.  They  represent  the  medium  type  of 
the  Upper  Egypt  peasant  with  his  qualities  and 
defects,  his  religious  beliefs  and  his  superstitions. 
As  a  rule  he  is  patient  and  gentle,  industrious  as 
long  as  you  whip  him,  sure  to  idle  and  loaf  as  soon 
as  the  surveillance  is  withdrawn.  He  is  sober,  and 
is  contented  for  a  whole  day  with  three  or  four 
galettes  with  an  onion  for  relish,  and  with  turbid 
water  to  drink.  But  this  is  from  necessity,  for 
when  fortune  smiles  on  him  he  gorges  himself 
with  victuals  and  drink,  so  that  he  is  quite  besotted 
until  digestion  is  over.  He  is  not  brutal  to  his 
wife,  he  loves  his  children,  and  if  he  beats  his 
animals  it  is  without  malice:  a  stick  falling 
rhythmically  on  a  donkey  laden  with  corn  or 
nitrous  earth,  the  sebakh  with  which  he  manures 
his  fields,  marks  time  in  pleasant  fashion  for  the 
donkey's  trot  and  the  guide's  steps.     His  religion 

155 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

consists  in  reciting  by  heart  a  few  chapters  of  the 
Koran,  and  in  praying  every  day  at  the  appointed 
times  with  the  gestures  belonging  to  the  ritual. 
He  is  charitable  towards  those  poorer  than  himself 
and  very  hospitable.  The  better  we  come  to  know 
him,  the  more  we  reahse  that  he  belongs  to  a  good 
race,  and  the  more  pleasure  we  have  in  talking 
to  him,  but  he  is  very  reserved  with  strangers, 
especially  with  Europeans.  He  fears  that  the 
European  will  laugh  at  his  ideas  or  will  use  against 
him  words  he  may  have  let  fall  when  off  his  guard, 
and  I  must  confess  that  his  mistrust  is  only  too 
often  justified.  But  we  tame  him  when  we  spend 
days  in  his  company,  occupied  in  directing  his 
work,  and  persuade  him  that  we  have  no  evil 
intentions  towards  him.  Once  he  begins  to  talk, 
his  tongue  runs  away  with  him,  and  there  is  no 
tale  that  he  will  not  tell  you  as  long  as  you  will 
listen  to  his  chatter. 

All  the  ancient  sites  are  more  or  less  bewitched, 
but  Karnak  with  its  magnificent  monuments  is 
pre-eminently  the  enchanted  land — el-ardh  mar- 
soud,  A  tradition,  transmitted  from  father  to 
son  through  two  changes  of  religion,  keeps  aUve 
among  them  the  memory  of  the  treasures  contained 
in  the  sanctuary  of  Amon  at  the  period  of  Theban 
greatness  and  even  later.  Gold  shone  on  the  wood 
of  the  doors,  on  the  bronze  of  the  ornaments  and 

156 


Karnak:  Legends  and  Superstitions 

statues,  on  the  limestone  of  the  walls  or  on  the 
granite  of  the  obelisks,  without  mentioning  the 
gold  ingots  and  vases  kept  in  the  sacristies. 
The  inscription  engraved  on  the  pedestal  of  the 
obelisk  set  up  by  the  Queen  Hatshopsouitou 
assures  us  that  it  was  gilded  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  describes  new  generations  asking  how 
sufficient  metal  could  ever  have  been  procured 
for  the  purpose :  "  I  do  not  know,  I  do  not  know 
by  what  means  it  was  possible  to  do  this  thing,  a 
mountain  of  gold,  the  summit  of  which  reaches  to 
heaven."  The  gilding  has  long  since  been  rubbed 
off,  and  no  trace  of  it  is  to  be  distinguished,  but 
the  fellah  continues  to  believe  that  it  is  there.  If 
any  one  does  not  see  it,  it  is  because  the  old 
magicians,  tliose  incomparable  men  of  learning, 
have  cast  a  charm  on  it  which  hides  it  from  all 
eyes.  Any  one  clever  enough  to  exorcise  the  spell 
would  suddenly  see  the  obeKsk  sparkle  in  the  sun 
as  at  the  time  of  its  first  freshness.  And  it  is  not 
the  only  one  of  the  monuments  of  Karnak  which 
thus  deceives  the  visitor.  Most  of  the  blocks  of 
granite,  alabaster,  or  even  of  limestone  scattered 
over  the  ground,  are  also  under  a  spell.  More  than 
one  guard  has  taken  me  mysteriously  to  one  of 
them  lying  half-buried  in  an  isolated  pit,  and  after 
making  sure  that  no  one  was  spying  on  us,  has 
knocked  it  with  his  stick  and  told  me  to  notice  the 

157 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

metallic  sound  that  followed:  the  magician  has 
veiled  the  brightness  of  the  gold,  but  was  not 
clever  enough  to  disguise  the  sound.  If  the  stone 
was  broken  to  the  recital  of  an  appropriate  spell, 
the  gold  would  immediately  reappear.  Not  a 
year  passes  but  a  Moghrebin,  a  man  from  Tunis  or 
Algiers  or  Morocco,  comes  to  try  his  luck.  He 
arrives  on  the  day  and  at  the  hour  prescribed  by  the 
books  of  magic,  draws  the  circle,  burns  the  incense, 
mutters  the  invocations.  The  fellahs  declare  that 
many  fail,  but  that  those  who  succeed  enrich 
themselves  for  the  rest  of  their  life.  Genii 
naturally  watch  over  these  treasures,  and  some- 
times defend  them  or  distribute  them  to  individuals 
whom  their  caprice  delights  to  honour.  One  of 
them,  who  is  a  negro  of  the  name  of  Morgani, 
inhabits  the  northern  doorway  of  the  temple  of 
Montou,  which  for  that  reason  we  call  Bab-el-abdy 
the  Door  of  the  Slave.  About  twenty  years  ago 
the  captain  of  a  boat  laden  with  lentils  and  beans 
was  obUged  through  stress  of  weather  to  cast 
anchor  opposite  Karnak.  As  he  lay  alongside  a 
beggar  came  up  and  asked  first  for  an  ardeb^  of 
lentils,  then  for  half  the  quantity,  then  for  a 
quarter ;  he  was  allowed  at  last  to  take  away  as 
much  as  he  could  hold  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands. 
The  beggar  thanked  the  captain  and  gave  him  a 

^  About  330  lbs. 
158 


Karnak:   Legends  and  Superstitions 

written  paper,  advising  him  to  go  by  night  to  the 
Door  of  the  Slave.  If  he  knocked  three  times 
with  his  finger  on  a  certain  stone,  a  negro  would 
come  out,  to  whom  he  was  to  say :  "  Oh,  Morgani, 
look  at  this  paper,"  and  he  was  to  wait.  The  night 
before  his  departure  the  captain  repaired  to  the 
Door  of  the  Slave,  knocked  three  times,  and 
showed  the  paper.  The  negro  immediately  led 
him  into  an  inner  chamber,  gave  him  gold  in 
the  same  quantity  as  he  had  given  the  beggar 
lentils,  and  then  added :  "  If  you  had  given  an 
ardeb  you  would  have  received  an  ardeb ;  depart 
your  ways  and  profit  by  the  lesson,  and  hence- 
forth be  more  generous." 

All  the  genii  are  not  equally  amiable.  The  monu- 
mental doorway  of  the  south,  that  which  closes  the 
avenue  of  Rams  and  precedes  the  Temple  of  Khon- 
sou,  serves  as  dwelling-place  for  a  lakhia,  that  is,  a 
dwarf  with  a  big  head  and  crooked  legs,  adorned 
with  a  formidable  beard.  He  walks  abroad  in  the 
mists  of  the  evening,  and  takes  the  air  in  the  sur- 
rounding places.  If  a  passing  stranger  laughs  at 
his  grotesque  appearance,  he  jumps  at  his  throat  and 
strangles  him.  The  banks  of  the  crescent-shaped 
pond  that  has  taken  the  place  of  the  old  sacred  lake 
of  the  Temple  of  Maout  have  a  very  bad  repu- 
tation, and  the  natives  do  not  like  to  venture  there 
after  sunset.      They  would  run  the  risk  of  meeting 

159 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

an  enormous  cat  who  walks  there  on  moonless 
nights  and  whose  eyes  shine  in  the  darkness  like 
two  balls  of  fire.  She  fascinates  those  on  whom 
she  fixes  her  eyes,  and  drags  them  into  the  water 
and  they  are  drowned.  The  cat  ceases  her 
prowling  at  full  moon,  and  a  woman,  scantily 
clothed  in  a  short  clinging  white  tunic,  takes  her 
place.  She  is  very  beautiful,  it  is  said,  and  solicits 
young  men  with  her  sweet  voice,  but  as  soon  as 
she  has  seduced  one  of  them  she  smothers  him. 
There  is  no  mystery  about  the  origin  of  these 
supernatural  beings.  The  lakhia  of  the  Temple  of 
Khonsou  is  the  Bisou  of  the  old  Egyptians,  the 
dwarf  who  came  from  the  Pouanit,  and  who  was 
laughed  at  by  all  on  account  of  his  enormous 
head,  hairy  cheeks,  crooked  legs,  and  head- 
dress of  feathers.  The  cat  and  the  white  lady  are 
two  different  forms  of  Maout,  one  animal,  the 
other  purely  human.  Here,  as  in  many  other 
lands,  the  gods  are  neither  dead  nor  in  exile ;  they 
are  still  in  their  hereditary  domains,  but  they  have 
changed  their  nature  and  have  become  demons. 
Sometimes  they  celebrate  the  ancient  rites  with  the 
pomp  of  a  former  day.  More  than  one  fellah  kept 
out  late  has  seen  a  mysterious  cortege  passing  by 
night  from  Karnak  to  Louxor.  A  troop  of  horse- 
men heads  the  procession,  then  comes  a  Sultan 
mounted  on  a  white  horse  and  surrounded  by  foot- 

160 


Karnak :  Legends  and  Superstitions 

guards,  then  women  carried  in  litters,  and  a  con- 
fused crowd  of  soldiers  and  common  people.  All 
these  shades  walk  silently,  seeing  nothing  of  what 
is  going  on  around  them,  but  if  the  spectator 
recites  the  Musulman  profession  of  faith — "  There 
is  no  God  if  it  is  not  God  and  Mohammed  is  the 
prophet  of  God  " — they  vanish  as  if  carried  off  by 
a  whirlwind. 

Once  or  twice  a  year  the  old  sacred  lake  of  the 
Temple  of  Amon    is  illuminated  and  a    golden 
dahabieh  sails  round  it.     The  rowers  are  statues  of 
gold,   the  cabins   are   filled  with  gold    furniture. 
Whoever  likes    may    go    aboard    and    seize    the 
treasure,  then  return  to  land   without  hindrance, 
provided  that  during   the  adventure  he  does  not 
utter  a  word.     There  is  no  example  of  a  fellah 
being  able  to  restrain  himself  from  crying  "Ah ! " 
or  invoking  Allah  at  the  sight  of  so  much  treasure 
spread  out  before  him  :  then  everything  vanishes, 
and  the  foolish  fellow,  falling  into  the  water,  has  to 
swim  ashore.     The  people  of  Karnak  declare  that 
Mariette  alone  was  able  to  keep  silent,  and  that  is 
why  there  are  so  many  gold  jewels  in  the  Cairo 
Museum.      I   have  been  told  how  a  peasant  of 
Karnak,  walking  by  night  along  the  sacred  lake, 
saw  the  boat  moored  to  the  shore.     As  a  brilliant 
light  came  from  it  and  an  echo  of  strange  voices 
and  a  roaring  of  distant  daraboukahs,  he  did  not 

161  L 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

dare  enter  it,  but  seeing  the  stake  to  which  the 
rope  was  tied,  and  by  the  side  of  the  stake  the 
mallet  used  to  knock  it  into  the  ground,  he  seized 
them  and  ran  home  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him.  Once  there  he  declared  that  the  two  objects 
were  of  fine  gold ;  he  sold  them,  and  that  was  the 
origin  of  his  fortune.  The  story  is  well  known 
and  was  evidently  inspired  by  the  remembrance  of 
the  ancient  Theban  fetes.  The  nocturnal  tour  is 
the  solemn  procession  of  Amon.  The  king  led  the 
god  in  triumph  from  his  temple  of  Karnak  to  his 
temple  of  Louxor,  and  then  brought  him  back. 
The  golden  dahabieh  is  the  ark  of  Amon,  the 
picture  of  which  appears  on  the  walls  a  hundred 
times,  with  its  cabin,  furniture,  pilot,  and  crew  of 
divinities.  On  certain  days  and  nights  it  was  sent 
on  to  the  lake  to  perform  mysteries.  It  turned 
about  for  some  hours  before  the  eyes  of  the  faith- 
ful, then  was  lifted  on  to  the  shoulders  of  the 
priests,  and  returned  to  the  depths  of  the 
sanctuary. 

The  stories  of  the  "Arabian  Nights"  have 
made  us  familiar  with  djinns,  and  they  swarm 
at  Karnak  and  in  its  environs.  From  time  to 
time  a  light  appears  on  the  summit  of  the  pylon 
of  the  Ptolemies,  and  then,  after  becoming 
so  brilliant  that  the  eye  cannot  endure  it,  it 
is  suddenly  extinguished :   it  is  the  djinns  mani- 

162 


Karnak:   Legends  and  Superstitions 

festing  themselves.  It  is  unwise  to  speak  of 
them  even  in  the  daytime,  for  you  never  know 
if  they  are  not  invisible  near  the  talkers  and 
may  be  offended  by  the  conversation.  They  fall 
in  love  with  pretty  girls,  and  pursue  them  into 
corners,  while  the  djinniahs,  the  female  djinns,  fall 
in  love  with  handsome,  vigorous  young  men. 
When  a  young  man  who  is  both  well  off  and  in 
good  health  does  not  marry,  he  is  accused  of  having 
a  djinniak  for  wife,  and  all  sorts  of  evil  rumours 
about  him  are  spread  abroad.  I  was  told  of 
one  of  the  most  notable  inhabitants  of  Louxor 
who  long  lived  with  a  djinniah.  She  gave  him 
recipes  for  fattening  and  taking  care  of  the  cattle, 
she  indicated  the  hiding-places  of  antiquities  or 
treasure,  she  gave  him  such  good  counsel  in  his 
business  affairs  that  he  quickly  grew  very  wealthy. 
When  he  was  just  touching  his  fortieth  year  he 
tired  of  this  illegitimate  union  and  sought  to 
marry,  but  all  the  girls  whom  he  courted  fell  ill 
and  died  one  after  the  other.  At  length  he 
managed  to  get  engaged  to  a  girl  of  a  Cairo  family, 
and  the  djinniah,  prevented  by  distance,  did  not 
succeed  in  hindering  the  marriage.  She  revenged 
herself,  nevertheless ;  for  no  sooner  did  the  young 
wife  arrive  at  Louxor  than  she  was  attacked  by 
diseases  that  robbed  her  of  her  good  looks,  and  her 
three  children  were  born  weak  and  sickly.     The 

163 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

male  djinns  are  less  ferocious  and  more  easily 
pardon  infidelities.  They  are  sometimes  conftised 
with  spirits  of  an  inferior  sort,  the  afrites^  who 
deHght  in  playing  all  sorts  of  tricks  like  our 
goblins,  but  who  are  generally  not  at  all  terrible. 
They  unceremoniously  enter  European  dwellings, 
and  a  house  belonging  to  the  Service  des  Anti- 
quit^s  is  one  of  their  favourite  resorts.  It  is  true 
that  it  was  built  on  the  site  of  a  disused  burial- 
ground,  and  that  some  of  the  afrttes  who  assemble 
there  are  merely  ghosts  of  the  departed.  In  the 
daytime  nothing  unusual  happens.  Once  only 
M.  Chauvin's  native  cook — M.  Chauvin  is  the 
employee  of  the  Service  who  hves  there — heard  a 
noise  like  the  rattling  of  old  iron  in  his  kitchen, 
and  ran  away  in  a  great  fright,  exclaiming  that  a 
devil  had  got  among  his  saucepans.  At  night  it  is 
unwise  to  walk  about  the  house  without  a  light ; 
there  is  risk  of  knocking  up  against  a  phantom 
taking  a  stroll  and  of  receiving  a  hard  blow.  Last 
January  M.  Chauvin,  wishing  to  rise  early  in  order 
to  start  at  dawn  on  a  hunting  expedition,  told  his 
servant  Kamal  not  to  go  back  to  Karnak,  but  to 
sleep  in  a  room  next  his  office.  Kamal,  fearing  to 
be  alone,  invited  a  friend  to  keep  him  company, 
and  the  precaution  was  not  unnecessary.  Scarcely 
were  they  in  bed  when  a  little  dog  entered  the 
room,  they  could  not  tell  how,  and  after  smelhng 

164 


Karnak :   Legends  and  Superstitions 

at  them,  frisked  about  them  for  nearly  an  hour, 
barking  as  if  he  wished  to  bite  them.  Soon  after 
they  had  with  difficulty  chased  him  away,  a  dozen 
children  or  little  men  appeared  to  them,  who 
danced  for  a  long  time,  clapping  their  hands  and 
putting  out  their  tongues.  They  could  not  get 
free  of  them  till  the  morning,  when  M.  Chauvin, 
getting  up,  summoned  them  to  set  out  for  the 
place  where  they  had  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  game. 
A  good  way  to  frighten  the  afrites,  at  Karnak  as 
everywhere,  is  to  put  a  little  bread  with  a  pinch  of 
salt  in  the  place  they  habitually  frequent.  But 
the  best  way  is  not  to  be  afraid  of  them.  One  of 
our  workmen  at  Gournah,  going  down  into  the 
crypt  of  a  tomb  lately  opened,  felt  his  arm  grasped 
by  some  one  he  did  not  see  ;  without  being  discon- 
certed, he  stretched  out  his  hand  at  hazard  and 
gripped  so  hard  that  his  aggressor  melted  between 
his  fingers  without  doing  him  any  harm.  There 
are  very  few  of  our  men  who  have  not  met  afrites 
and  who  have  not  some  adventure  to  recount 
similar  to  the  one  I  have  just  related. 

Every  individual  who  is  assassinated  or 
accidentally  killed  is  changed  into  an  afrite  and 
haunts  the  place  where  he  died  until  the  last 
traces  of  his  blood  are  effaced.  In  1884,  while 
we  were  working  in  the  Temple  of  Louxor, 
four  of  the    workmen   who    were    cleaning   the 

165 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

roof  of  one  of  the  lateral  halls  of  the  sanctuary 
fell  from  a  height  of  30  feet  to  36  feet. 
Three  of  them  were  killed  on  the  spot;  the 
fourth  jumped  up  again,  unhurt,  and  ran  off 
as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him  to  his 
village  of  Bayadiyeh,  at  the  south  of  Louxor. 
The  next  day  one  of  the  Copts  who  lived  in  an 
adjoining  house  told  me  that  his  wife  had  been 
awakened  in  the  middle  of  the  night  by  cries 
that  had  no  human  sound.  She  opened  her 
window  a  little,  and  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
saw  the  three  men  who  had  been  killed  the  day 
before  walking  in  the  ruins,  shouting  and 
waving  their  arms.  1  had  the  curiosity  to 
inquire  about  them  this  year,  and  learned  that 
they  were  still  occasionally  seen  or  heard.  I 
was  even  shown  yellowish  stains  in  the  hall 
where  they  were  killed,  said  to  be  the  marks  of 
their  blood,  but  I  could  not  discover  if  they 
were  dangerous,  or  if  any  misdeeds  were  laid  to 
them  other  than  disturbing  the  rest  of  the  river- 
side dwellers  on  moonlight  nights.  Afrites  of 
that  sort  abound  everywhere,  and  some  of  them 
have  a  European  origin.  About  half-way  be- 
tween Louxor  and  Kamak,  you  skirt  on  the 
left  three  enclosures,  scantily  planted  with  trees. 
They  are  three  cemeteries — Protestant,  CathoHc, 
and   Coptic — placed  by  the  roadside  in  order  to 

166 


Karnak :  Legends  and  Superstitions 

remind  tourists  that  men  die  even  in  Egypt, 
and  that  a  journey  of  pleasure  may  suddenly 
end  in  a  grave  in  a  foreign  land. 

One  of  the  first  guests  of  the  Protestant 
cemetery  was,  it  is  said,  an  EngUsh  soldier, 
who,  coming  down  from  Ouady-Halfah,  where 
he  was  in  garrison,  bathed  in  the  river  at 
Louxor  and  was  drowned.  It  is  his  custom 
to  wander  among  the  tombs  in  the  enclosure, 
but  he  confines  himself  to  darting  fiery  glances 
at  the  living  persons  who  traverse  the  road. 
Sometimes,  however,  he  comes  out  and  walks 
behind  them,  and  accompanies  them  to  the 
first  houses  of  Karnak  or  to  the  little  bridge 
near  Karnak.  Another  English  soldier,  who 
perished  in  climbing  the  Great  Pyramid  about 
1882,  haunts  the  plain  of  Gizeh  at  sunset,  and 
I  myself  heard  a  French  mechanic  spoken  of 
at  Rodah  in  1884  who,  caught  in  some 
machinery  ten  or  twelve  years  before,  returned 
at  intervals  to  see  if  all  was  going  well  at  the 
factory.  Foreign  spectres  have  not  yet  invaded 
Karnak,  but  the  supernatural  beings  known  to 
our  workmen  there  are  of  very  ancient  native 
origin.  The  Thebans  of  the  XXth  Dynasty 
must  have  been  frightened  by  tales  resembling 
those  that  their  descendants  have  told  me,  and  thus 
the  beliefs  of  Pharaonic  Egypt  are  for  the  most  part 
perpetuated  in  the  superstitions  of  modern  Egypt. 

167 


XVI 

FISHING  FOR  STATUES  IN   THE  TEMPLE 
OF   KARNAK 

For  a  year  and  eight  months  we  have  been 
fishing  for  statues  in  the  Temple  of  Karnak. 
We  began  about  the  end  of  November,  1903, 
and  have  continued  uninterruptedly  until  now,^ 
except  for  the  usual  holiday  seasons  and  the 
pauses  needed  by  the  workmen.  Seven  hundred 
stone  monuments  have  already  come  out  of 
the  water,  and  we  are  not  yet  at  the  end. 
Twice  luck  seemed  to  desert  us,  and  twice, 
after  days  of  distress,  it  smiled  on  us  again. 
Statues  whole  and  in  fragments,  busts,  mutilated 
trunks,  headless  bodies,  bodiless  heads,  vases  on 
which  there  were  only  broken  feet,  Pharaohs 
enthroned,  queens  standing  upright,  priests  of 
Amon  and  individuals  holding  naos,  or  images 
of  gods,  in  front  of  them,  crouching,  kneeling, 
sitting,    found    in     all    the     attitudes     of    their 

'  February,  1905. 
168 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

profession  or  rank,  in  limestone,  in  black  or  pink 
granite,  in  yellow  or  red  sandstone,  in  green 
breccia,  in  schist,  in  alabaster — indeed,  a  whole 
population  returns  to  the  upper  air  and  demands 
shelter  in  the  galleries  of  the  Museum. 

During  the  four  years  that  the  Service  des 
Antiquit^s  has  devoted  to  work  at  Karnak,  I 
made  it  a  law  to  myself  never  to  abandon  any 
part  until  it  had  been  thoroughly  explored — 
walls,  flooring,  sub-structures — and  until  all  the 
remains  of  earlier  monuments  that  could  be 
found  there  were  brought  out.  It  is  due  to  this 
strictness  of  mine  that  M.  Legrain  discovered 
several  masterpieces,  the  statue  of  the  god 
Khonsou,  the  group  of  Thoutmosis  IV.  and  of 
his  mother,  Tia,  the  colossus  of  a  Sanouosrit 
IV.  who  flourished  under  the  Xlllth  Dynasty, 
the  triumphal  bas-reliefs  of  Amenothes  II.  on 
his  return  from  Syria,  after  the  raids  of  his 
first  expedition.  We  are  now  carrying  on 
our  campaign  in  the  avenue  that  extends  to 
the  south  of  the  Hypostyle  Hall  on  the 
two  sides  of  the  seventh  pylon,  where  borings 
formerly  taken  revealed  to  me  the  presence 
of  a  number  of  stelse  and  statues.  It  pro- 
duced during  the  last  months  of  1902  about 
fifteen  colossi,  which  formerly  stood  right  and 
left    along    the    southern    fa9ade    of  the    pylon, 

169 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

and  then  lay  dismembered  under  the  rubbish. 
Now  they  have  been  pieced  together  again, 
and  stand  almost  in  their  ancient  places.  Later 
on,  during  the  winter  of  1902-3,  we  discovered 
a  large  number  of  limestone  blocks,  ornamented 
with  marvellous  bas-reliefs,  some  coming  from 
a  chapel  of  Sanouosrit  I.,  but  the  greater 
number  from  an  edifice  built  by  Amenothes  I. 
about  the  beginning  of  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty. 
Thoutmosis  III.  had  used  them  as  waste  material 
to  bank  up  the  pavement  of  the  court  while 
erecting  on  so  vast  a  scale  the  propylgea 
of  the  temple  of  Amon.  The  debris  of 
Sanouosrit  I.  are  still  very  scanty  and  we  shall 
probably  have  to  treat  them  as  fragments  for 
the  Museum,  and  send  them  to  Cairo.  Those 
of  Amenothes  I.  are  so  many  that  I  decided 
to  reconstruct  the  building  to  which  they 
belonged.  M.  Legrain  discovered  the  plan  and 
brought  together  the  scattered  elements  under 
the  happy  inspiration  of  a  German  architect, 
M.  Wefels,  who  had  come  to  Egypt  for  his 
health,  but  we  have  not  yet  chosen  the  site. 
When  we  have  selected  it,  it  will  be  an  affair 
of  only  a  few  months,  and  visitors  to  Karnak 
will  be  able  to  admire  in  the  light  of 
day  a  monument  buried  by  Thoutmosis  III. 
immediately  after  his  first   victories,   and  which 

170 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

no   human   eye   had   seen    for   more   than   3,500 
years.  I 

It  was  while  getting  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
of  the  blocks  out  of  the  ground,  about  the  end 
of  November,  1903,  that  M.  Legrain  extricated 
the  pieces  of  an  alabaster  colossus.  The  rise  of 
the  river  had  been  greater  than  usual,  and  the  level 
of  the  infiltrations  was  high  enough  to  impede 
his  operations.  When  the  first  fragments  were 
brought  away  he  distinguished  vague  outlines 
of  statues  in  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  the 
cavity,  which  the  water,  oozing  in  on  every 
side,  had  soon  filled.  He  ordered  them  to  be 
got  out  without  feeling  much  emotion  in  regard 
to  the  find,  for  the  success  of  the  preceding 
years  had  made  the  joys  of  discovery  pall  on 
him.  But  while  they  were  being  torn  from 
their  bed  of  mud  one  of  the  workmen  exclaimed 
that  there  were  more  of  them  beneath  their  feet. 
There  were  others  under  those,  then  others 
again,  and  still  others.  They  seemed  to  sprout 
among  the  men  as  fast  as  they  picked  them 
out.  Most  of  them  were  only  of  second-rate 
style   and   interest,   merely    good    studio    pieces, 

^  The  site  has  since  been  chosen,  but  the  re-building 
has  yet  to  be  begun  :  in  order  to  commence  operations 
I  must  find  time  one  winter  to  stay  at  Thebes  longer 
than  usual. 

171 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

but  some  stood  out  as  of  no  ordinary  make : 
a  group  of  a  prince  and  his  wife  seated 
side  by  side  with  their  daughter  standing  against 
their  legs  ;  two  large  heads  in  pink  granite  of 
Sanouosrit  I.,  of  haughty  mien  and  vigorous 
style;  a  sovereign  pontiff  of  Amon  in  speckled 
black  and  white  granite,  crouching  lumpishly, 
his  arms  crossed,  his  thighs  up  to  his  ears ;  a 
statuette  in  a  white  stone  tinted  with  pale  green, 
that  the  natives  immediately  called  emerald  root. 
About  the  end  of  December  there  were  forty 
intact  statues  in  the  house  of  the  Service,  the 
fragments  of  about  twenty  were  awaiting  in  the 
workshop  a  stroke  of  fortune  that  might  restore 
the  portions  they  lacked,  and  the  extraction 
of  them  went  on  without  any  notable  pause. 
Stone  predominated,  but  oxidised  bronze  began 
to  abound,  uraei  incrusted  with  variegated 
enamels,  heads  or  points  of  sceptres,  the  mounts 
of  gigantic  eyes  fallen  from  some  colossus,  blades 
of  tools,  little  figures  of  Osiris-mummy,  several 
of  them  of  admirable  finish.  The  farther  we 
went  the  more  evident  it  became  that  it  was 
not  chance  alone  that  had  brought  so  many 
dissimilar  objects  to  this  place.  They  must 
have  been  accumulated  there  on  purpose,  and 
served  perhaps  to  conceal  a  more  valuable 
deposit,    sacred    plates    and    cups    or    gold    and 

172 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

silver  statues  buried  by  the  Theban  priests  in 
troublous  times.  It  was  natural  that  M.  Legrain 
should  have  the  idea  that  there  was  treasure, 
the  treasure  of  Amon,  buried  there  under  the 
stone  and  in  the  mud,  and  although  I  could 
not  agree  with  him,  his  opinion  sustained  him 
through  the  heavy  fatigues  of  his  long  campaign, 
and   still  possesses   his   mind. 

Meanwhile  the  rumour  spread  that  we  were 
doing  wonders  at  Karnak,  and,  assisted  by  the 
Oriental  imagination,  the  monuments  were  not 
emerging  by  tens  or  even  by  hundreds,  but  by 
thousands,  and  they  were  of  a  colossal  size ;  the 
villagers  had  even  weighed  them  and  reckoned  the 
value  in  current  coin  of  the  masses  of  gold  of 
which  M.  Legrain  predicted  the  imminent  arrival. 
Tourists,  who  are  numerous  at  Louxor  in  the 
venter  months,  came  in  crowds  every  day  to  the 
environs  of  the  pylon,  and  if  they  were  quiet  and 
orderly  were  wilUngly  admitted  to  the  spectacle. 
Fishing  for  statues  actually  went  on  under  their 
eyes.  The  trench  dug  in  the  north-west  corner  of 
the  courtyard  against  the  wall  of  the  Hj^ostyle 
Hall  was  dry  in  parts,  and  in  others  scattered  over 
with  pools.  The  workshop  was  set  up  in  the 
largest  of  them,  which  was  the  last  on  the  south 
side.  Every  morning  twenty  men,  using  old 
petroleum    cans  for   pails,  drew    off  the    3  or   4 

173 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

feet  of  muddy  water  which  filled  it  and  stored  it  in 
a  reservoir  situated  a  little  above,  and  separated 
from  the  large  pool  by  a  thin  partition  of  earth. 
When  only  mud  of  a  certain  consistency  was  left, 
they  attacked  it  with  the  pickaxe,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  feel  gently  with  their  feet  till  resistance 
under  their  heel  seemed  to  point  to  the  existence 
of  a  block.  Then  they  dropped  the  pickaxe  and 
used  their  hands,  for  fear  that  an  awkward  blow  of 
the  instrument  might  cause  irreparable  damage. 
When  the  contour  and  dimensions  of  the  object 
were  in  some  degree  defined,  they  raised  it  as  well 
as  they  could  by  means  of  wooden  levers,  and  tried 
to  drag  it  to  the  edge  by  a  series  of  slow  jolts.  If 
this  had  no  effect,  or  the  weight  was  too  great, 
they  wound  a  rope  several  times  round  it,  and 
harnessing  themselves  to  its  end,  three  or  four  of 
them  pulled  with  caution.  That  was  the  particular 
moment  of  the  operation  that  tourists,  warned  by 
their  dragomans,  impatiently  awaited.  The  mud 
was  tenacious,  the  rope  tended  to  sUp  and  escape, 
the  bottom  of  the  pool  offered  insufficient  support. 
But  most  often  after  a  long  inertia  the  piece 
suddenly  and  most  unexpectedly  detached  itself 
from  the  mud,  and  the  workmen,  losing  their 
balance,  fell  one  over  the  other,  splashing  the 
people  standing  round.  The  tourists  burst  into 
laughter,  and  most  of  them  ran  away.     A  few, 

174 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

however,  remained  in  order  to  witness  the 
recognition  of  the  statue.  The  body  and  face 
were  washed,  sponged,  wiped,  brushed,  and  such 
vigorous  treatment  was  generally  quickly  successful. 
In  less  than  five  minutes  the  features  of  the  face 
appeared,  the  inscriptions  became  legible,  details 
of  costume  or  style  completed  the  information 
furnished  by  the  inscriptions,  and  we  knew  if 
the  fresh  arrival  was  the  high  priest  Ramses- 
nakhouitou  of  the  XXth  Dynasty  or  the  lord 
Anakhoui  of  the  Xlllth.  In  the  evening,  before 
leaving  the  place,  the  partition  was  opened,  and  the 
water  drawn  out  of  the  pool  in  the  morning  was 
sent  back.  The  Uquid  spread  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  and  protected  the  spot  against  night 
attacks  more  effectually  and  at  less  expense  than  a 
picket  of  sentries. 

Thieves  could  do  nothing  under  those  conditions, 
and  they  regretfully  recognised  it  from  the  very 
first.  That  the  Service  alone  should  benefit  from 
such  continuous  good  fortune  was  a  cause  of 
indignation  and  inconsolable  grief  to  them  and  the 
merchants  whom  they  provided  with  goods.  They 
had  come  not  only  from  Louxor  but  from  the 
whole  of  Egypt,  from  Keneh,  Siout,  Mellaoui, 
Cairo,  and  they  prowled  round  our  workshops 
vainly  invoking  all  the  saints  in  the  Coptic  calendar 
or  the  Musulman  tradition  for  any  sort  of  means 

175 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

by    which    they   might    derive    some    small    ad- 
vantage from  this  miraculous   draught.     Even  if 
they  had  corrupted  our  workmen  or  overseers,  a 
circumstance  neither  impracticable  nor  difficult,  it 
would  have  availed  them  nothing :  the   valuable 
pieces  were  too  few  and  too  heavy  for  any  one  to 
risk  taking  them  off  by  day  while  work  was  in  pro- 
gress, and  the  deep  water  made  it  impossible  to 
work  by  stealth  at  night.    Most  of  them  renounced 
their  plans  on  account  of  these  obstacles,  but  some 
would     not     confess     themselves     defeated,    and 
changed  their  tactics,  concentrating  their  efforts  on 
the  stores  in  which  the  statues  were  kept  before 
their  despatch  to  Cairo.     They  were  closed  in  by 
thick   walls,  touching  the  house  occupied   by  M. 
Legrain  and  his  family,  and  watched  day  and  night 
by  two    of   our    men.     For    greater    safety    M. 
Legrain  shut  up  the  smaller  pieces  in  his  office, 
and   requisitioned  two    vigorous    men    from   the 
omdeh  of  Karnak,  whom  he  associated  with  our 
guards.     It  was  this  very  precaution  that  did  the 
mischief     One  of   the    notables  of   the    district 
arranged  to  pass  off  on  us  two  professional  thieves  ; 
he  did  not  hope  to  steal  everything  from  us,  but 
one    object    had    excited    his    covetousness — the 
statuette  said  to  be  of  emerald  root,   and  that 
popular    credulity    valued    at    10,000    Egyptian 
pounds — that  is,  about  £10,400  sterling.     The  chief 

176 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

personages  of  Louxor  liked  to  look  at  it  often,  and 
one  day,  about  the  middle  of  January,  one  of  them 
said  to  M.  Legrain  in  a  slightly  forced  humorous 
manner,  "  Hide  it  well,  or  I  shall  have  it  stolen." 
M.  Legrain  laughed  heartily,  but  as  soon  as  he 
was  alone,  locked  it  up  in  another  place,  and 
replaced  it  by  two  statuettes  of  little  value.  It 
was  well  that  he  did  so.  That  very  night  persons 
well  informed  of  the  lay  of  the  land  scaled  the 
outer  wall,  pierced  the  wall  of  the  store  itself,  and 
without  making  any  noise  carried  off  the  two 
understudies.  Inquiry  proved  that  the  raid  had 
been  carried  out  by  the  two  extra  guards ;  they 
were  caught,  but  firmly  denied  their  guilt.  We 
began  to  despair  of  ever  discovering  anything  when 
an  anonymous  denunciation  revealed  the  names 
of  the  receivers  and  of  the  village  they  inhabited. 
The  instigator  of  the  theft  remained  unpunished, 
his  accomplices  refusing  to  name  him,  but  we 
recovered  possession  of  the  monuments  so  craftily 
taken  away,  and  the  thieves  were  punished. 
Things  will  now  be  quiet  for  a  time. 

The  excavations  went  forward  without,  it 
seemed,  exhausting  or  impoverishing  the  site.  So 
deep  into  the  earth  did  the  men  penetrate  that 
they  reached  the  level  of  the  constant  infiltrations 
of  the  river.  To  fight  the  water  we  had  to  set  up 
two  hand-pumps  and  chadoufs  at  the  side  of  the 

177  M 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

cavity,  and  those  means  soon  proving  insufficient, 
we  set  up  a  steam-pump.  The  pit  became  wider 
and  longer  the  more  it  was  dug  out,  and  surveillance 
became  more  difficult.  But  it  did  not  absorb 
M.  Legrain  so  much  that  he  could  not  draw  up 
a  catalogue  of  our  wealth.  The  historical  value 
equals,  if  it  does  not  surpass,  the  artistic  value. 
The  greater  part  transports  us  to  one  of  the  most 
obscure  epochs  of  Egyptian  history,  that  which, 
extending  from  the  XlXth  Dynasty  to  the 
Persian  Conquest,  saw  the  military  empire  of 
Thebes  transformed  into  a  theocratic  principality. 
The  high  priests  of  Amon  of  the  epoch  of  the 
Ramses  began  it,  then  those  who  were  con- 
temporaries of  the  Bubastes,  such  as  Horsiesis, 
whose  name  even  we  do  not  know,  but  who  was 
pontiff  and  king  about  the  middle  of  the  eighth 
century.  When  the  male  line  failed  and  women 
alone  survived  to  rule  Southern  Egj^t,  new 
documents  furnish  details  of  their  hves.  We  read 
how  the  Pharaohs,  reconciling  respect  for  tradition 
with  the  necessities  of  their  sovereign  authority, 
sent  their  daughters  one  after  the  other  to  reign 
over  the  domain  of  Amon.  What  a  series  of 
initiations  they  had  to  undergo  before  legally 
entering  into  the  pontifical  family!  They  were 
introduced  to  the  god  with  great  ceremony,  and 
if  they  conciliated  his  favour,  were  immediately 

178 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

adopted  by  the  reigning  princess;  they  only 
actually  became  queens  on  the  death  of  their 
adopted  mother.  Thenceforward  they  were  the 
legitimate  wives  of  Amonra,  free  to  choose  whom 
they  pleased  to  represent  him,  but,  like  the  queens 
of  Madagascar,  they  only  possessed  the  externals 
of  power.  They  had  an  hereditary  guardian,  a  sort 
of  chief  officer  of  state,  descended  from  a  race 
devoted  to  the  Saites  and  who  administered 
military  and  civil  affairs.  The  other  periods  of 
history  are  less  abundantly  represented  up  to  that 
time.  But  they  have  given  us  a  few  monuments 
of  extraordinary  beauty,  the  torso  in  pink  granite 
of  one  of  the  Pharaohs  of  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty 
and  the  two  statuettes  in  black  granite  of 
Amenemhait  III.  The  most  interesting  of  all 
perhaps  is  a  little  figure  which  might  be  a  portrait 
of  Amenothes  IV.  or  of  Ai,  the  heretic  king.  It 
is  not  carved  in  real  stone  but  in  petrified  wood, 
probably  a  piece  of  one  of  the  gigantic  nicolias, 
remarkable  specimens  of  which  are  seen  on  the 
tablelands  of  Mokattam  to  the  east  of  Cairo.  In 
spite  of  the  incredible  hardness  of  the  material,  it  is 
modelled  with  rare  certainty  and  suppleness.  If 
the  sculptor  had  used  soft  limestone  he  would  not 
have  succeeded  in  endowing  it  with  greater  charm 
and  delicacy. 

Now,   how  is  the   accumulation    of   so    many 

179 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

valuable  things  in  one  place  to  be  accounted  for  ? 
M.  Legrain  persists  in  believing  in  the  treasure, 
and  would  not  be  in  the  least  astonished  if 
statues  in  precious  metal  followed  statues  in 
stone.  Others  have  no  such  rich  hope,  but 
imagine  that  at  some  time  of  danger  the 
priests  of  Amon  desired  to  protect  the  best  of 
the  monuments  consecrated  by  their  ancestors 
from  the  enemy,  and  for  that  reason  made  the 
hiding-place  we  are  emptying.  These  hypotheses 
present  no  great  improbability.  The  Theban 
priesthood  was  often  obUged  to  bury  its  treasure 
during  the  wars  or  revolutions  that  devastated  the 
city,  but  I  doubt  if  a  spot  as  easy  of  access  as  our 
courtyard  would  have  seemed  to  them  sufficiently 
secret  in  such  a  case.  Besides,  gold  and  silver  so 
hidden  does  not  ordinarily  remain  long  under 
ground.  When  they  escape  the  enemy  and  danger 
is  over,  the  priests  hasten  to  take  them  out  again 
and  to  restore  them  to  their  accustomed  places. 
If  ever  the  pit  at  Karnak  held  gold  and  silver 
statues,  they  stayed  there  but  a  very  short  time, 
and  we  have  no  chance  of  finding  any  there  unless 
some  got  lost  in  the  mud.  The  stone  statues,  no 
matter  the  value  we  give  them,  had  very  little 
interest  for  the  Egyptians  of  the  Ptolemaic  age. 
The  question  of  art  did  not  exist  for  them,  and 
in  the  works  so    valuable  to  us  they  saw  only 

180 


Fishing  for  Statues  in  Karnak 

ex-voto  offered  long  ago  by  persons  famous  in 
their  generation,  but  whose  names  were  for  the 
most  part  forgotten.  They  used  some  to  repair 
the  flooring  of  the  temple,  why  then  should  they 
have  been  anxious  to  preserve  the  others  ?  No  one 
would  have  been  greatly  grieved  if  the  enemy  had 
broken  them  or  carried  them  off*  as  trophies.  The 
Egyptian  would  only  have  cared  if  it  had  been  a 
question  of  divine  images  ;  it  grieved  him  exceed- 
ingly if  the  foreigner  carried  off  those,  and  he 
rejoiced  exceedingly  when  a  victorious  Pharaoh, 
even  though  he  was  a  Greek,  repatriated  them. 

For  myself,  I  see  a  simpler  solution  of  the 
problem  with  which  we  are  confronted.  The 
burying  of  these  pieces  took  place  during  the  first 
half  of  the  Macedonian  rule ;  the  style  of  some 
of  the  statues  is  a  proof,  as  is  the  presence 
of  large  copper  coins  with  the  Lagidian  eagle. 
Ptolemy  I.  and  his  successors  worked  much  at 
Thebes ;  they  rebuilt  the  sanctuary,  restored  the 
columns  of  the  Hypostyle  Hall,  repaired  the  temple 
of  Phtah  and  some  of  the  buildings  which  surround 
the  Sacred  Lake.  All  that  had  suffered,  and  in 
addition  the  ex-voto  accumulated  during  centuries 
filled  up  the  corridors  and  courtyards.  The 
restorations  finished,  they  would  not  have  thrown 
away  objects  which  were  the  personal  property 
of  the  god  as  refuse,  nor  have  sold  or  destroyed 

181 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

them.  They  treated  them  in  the  way  customary 
on  such  occasions  with  the  barbarians  as  with  the 
Greeks.  They  dug  a  pit  for  them  in  the  Court  of 
the  Seventh  Pylon,  afavissa  into  which  they  were 
thrown  with  due  ceremonies.  It  is  certainly  not 
the  only  one.  As  for  the  royal  mummies,  the 
quantity  was  so  great  that  a  single  hiding-place 
would  never  have  sufficed  to  contain  them.  I 
have  every  hope  that  our  future  excavations  will 
reveal  the  pits  in  which  ex-voto  of  more  ancient 
times  were  buried. 


182 


XVII 

THE    PHARAOHS    BY    ELECTRIC    LIGHT 

The  Pharaohs  would  not  have  understood  it  in  the 

least.      When  I  say  the   Pharaohs,  it  is  only  a 

loose  way  of  speaking  :  only  one  Pharaoh  hved  at 

Thebes,  the  others  sleep  in  peace  in  some  hidden 

place  which  we  shall  one  day    discover,    or   are 

exhibited  in  glass   cases  in  the   Cairo   Museum. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  Amenothes  II.,  and  he 

alone,     who    would     not     have     understood     it. 

The  electric  light  has  just  been  installed   in  his 

tomb,  and  every  day  this  winter,  ^  from  nine  o'clock 

in  the  morning  to  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he 

has  seen  the  light  switched  on  and  off  at  the  will  of 

the  tourists,  with  a  rapidity  and  intensity  of  which 

he  had  not  any  idea  during  his  reign.     An  old 

Egyptian  romance  describes  the  adventures  of  a 

family  of  ghosts  who  had  returned  and  were  living 

comfortably  with  their  mummies  in  a  tomb,  lighted 

by  a  wonderful  talisman,  an  incantation  written  on 

papyrus  by  the  hand  of  Thot  himself.     When  his 

first  fear  was   over,   Amenothes   would  certainly 

'  This  was  written  in  1903. 
183 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

imagine  that  a  well-intentioned  sorcerer  had  made 
him  a  present  of  a  similar  conjuring  book,  and  he 
would  return  fervent  thanks  to  the  gods.  The 
whole  Academy  of  Sciences  would  waste  their 
time  in  trying  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  not  so. 

Ever  since  my  return  to  Egypt  I  had  been 
struck  with  the  lamentable  condition  into  which 
the  tombs  of  the  Theban  kings  had  fallen  during 
my  absence ;  everywhere  the  colours  had  faded, 
the  bas-reliefs  had  been  soiled,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
a  blackish  gauze  veil  had  been  placed  between 
them  and  the  spectator.  The  fault  was  solely  due 
to  the  means  of  lighting  employed  by  the  visitors, 
and  which  the  Service  des  Antiquites  was  obliged 
to  allow.  In  former  times  when  travellers  were 
rare,  and  when  there  were  only  two  or  three 
hundred  at  most  each  winter,  it  did  no  great 
harm  to  allow  them  to  use  candles  or  even 
torches  :  there  was  not  enough  smoke  each 
time  for  it  to  be  destructive.  But  to-day  visitors 
throng  in  crowds  of  two  or  three  hundred,  and 
their  total  number  during  the  season  exceeds 
four  thousand.  So  it  was  no  longer  a  few  candles, 
but  hundreds  of  candles,  that  were  taken  through 
the  galleries  and  chambers,  leaving  trails  of  soot 
in  their  track,  and  in  addition  there  was  the 
dragoman  who  lighted  up  the  most  celebrated 
pictures  with   magnesium    vdve.     That   was   for- 

184 


The  Pharaohs  by  Electric  Light 

bidden,  and  the  guardians  of  the  Service  received 
orders  to  stop  it,  but  two  or  three  piastres  of 
bakhshisch  cleverly  distributed  closed  the 
guardians'  eyes.  For  several  hours  the  tombs 
would  remain  infected  by  smoke  which  made 
the  atmosphere  unbearable,  and  which,  settUng 
down  on  the  ceilings  and  walls,  soiled  them  more 
and  more  every  day.  A  few  years  hence,  and  the 
tomb  of  Setoui  I.,  of  Ramses  III.,  V.,  and  IX.,  the 
most  frequented  of  all,  would  look  like  a  succession 
of  blackened  cavities  where  you  would  no  longer  be 
able  to  distinguish  even  the  faded  outline  of  former 
paintings.  The  only  way  to  prevent  this  evil  from 
causing  total  destruction  was  to  install  the  electric 
light  as  soon  as  possible.  On  one  hand  it  harms 
the  objects  very  little,  and  on  the  other  the  light 
which  it  gives  is  strong  enough  to  prevent  tour- 
ists regretting  their  pieces  of  magnesium  wire. 
Numberless  difficulties,  however,  opposed  its  use. 
The  Valley  of  the  Kings  is  some  miles  from  the 
nearest  wells  :  where  could  the  necessary  water  be 
procured  ?  Would  it  be  possible  to  construct  the 
works  in  so  concealed  a  spot  that  the  building  should 
not  ^oil  the  admirable  site  chosen  by  the  Egyp- 
tians for  the  tombs  of  their  kings  ?  Could  the  smell 
of  petrol,  the  noise  of  the  piston,  and  the  rumbling 
of  the  flywheel  be  suppressed  or  merely  moderated  ? 
Last,  though  not  least,  where  could  we  obtain  the 

185 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

six  or  eight  hundred  pounds  which  the  under- 
taking required  ?  How  the  Service  des  Antiquites 
managed  to  provide  the  sum  required  is  a 
comphcated  and  tiresome  story  which  would  have 
no  interest  for  the  pubUc.  The  money  found,  the 
Department  of  PubUc  Works  gave  us  full  per- 
mission to  do  what  we  liked,  and  the  rest  went  of 
itself.  A  little  to  the  east  of  the  hypogeum  of 
Setoui  I.  there  was  a  tomb  almost  entirely  fallen 
to  ruin,  that  of  Ramses  XI.,  the  entrance  of  which 
was  used  as  a  dining-room.  The  dragomans  set 
up  tables  there,  and  the  tourists  lunched  under  the 
protection  of  the  king.  It  was  selected  for 
the  place  in  which  to  install  the  dynamos,  and  was 
delivered  over  to  the  electricians.  They  soon 
fixed  up  their  engines  under  the  direction  of 
M.  Zimmermann,  an  engineer  whose  services  the 
proprietors  of  the  Louxor  Hotel  agreed  to  lend 
us.  An  inhabitant  of  the  village  of  Gournah 
undertook  for  a  fee  to  send  us  daily  on  donkey- 
back  the  necessary  amount  of  water.  The 
installation,  begun  at  the  end  of  December,  1901, 
was  finished  in  March,  1902,  and  the  trials  were 
immediately  declared  to  be  satisfactory.  The 
system  has  since  been  worked  during  the  whole 
of  the  winter  1902-1903,  to  the  advantage  of  the 
monuments  and  the  deUght  of  their  visitors. 
At  first  it  seems  as  if  nothing  is  changed  in  the 

186 


The  Pharaohs  by  Electric  Light 

Valley.  You  have  to  look  very  closely  to  find  two 
or  three  wooden  poles  which  try  to  conceal  them- 
selves in  a  corner,  and  an  almost  invisible  wire 
which  passes  from  one  to  the  other.  Wherever 
possible,  the  wire  was  carried  under  the  sand  or 
close  to  the  rock,  and  it  is  only  at  the  last 
extremity,  to  cross  the  dip  of  the  ravine,  that  it  is 
actually  visible  in  the  air.  The  engine-house  is 
so  well  hidden  in  its  burrow  where  no  one  ever 
goes,  that  you  are  Uterally  close  upon  it  before 
either  you  see  it  or  hear  the  noise.  From  time  to 
time  a  louder  blow  of  the  piston  resounds  or  a  gust 
of  wind  blowing  down  the  ravine  brings  a  slight 
odour  of  petrol.  But  it  is  so  slight  that  most 
tourists  enter  and  stay  in  the  tomb  of  Setoui  I. 
without  suspecting  the  existence  of  an  engine  only 
about  fifteen  yards  off.  All  the  royal  tombs  are 
preceded  by  a  sort  of  vestibule  open  to  the  air, 
which  is  only  the  prolongation  of  the  gallery  of 
access.  The  greater  part  of  the  vestibule  has  been 
roofed  in  with  wood  and  glass;  the  two  ends  have 
been  closed  by  means  of  partitions  provided  with 
doors,  and  so  the  works  have  been  constituted. 
Two  or  three  mutilated  cartouches  remind  us  of 
the  name  of  the  first  master,  and  his  silhouette  is 
vaguely  sketched  on  one  of  the  faces  of  the  rock  to 
the  right.  The  engine  roars  away  in  the  centre,  a 
Crossley  engine  of  seventeen  horse-power  nominal, 

187 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

solid,  squat,  rugged,  as  is  necessary  in  a  part  of 
the  world  so  distant  from  engineering  workshops 
where  repairs  can  be  made.  The  reservoirs  and 
the  table  of  distribution  are  relegated  to  the  sides, 
and  at  the  end  through  a  half-open  door  may  be 
seen  the  little  room  in  which  the  electrician  lives 
for  six  months  in  the  year.  Nothing  is  more 
significant  than  this  association  between  the 
ancient  building  and  modern  machinery,  the 
Solar  disk,  the  outlines  of  which  may  be  seen 
above  the  Pharaonic  bay,  and  the  engines  of  steel 
and  copper  which  move  and  work  almost  noiselessly 
with  that  air  of  easy  and  conscientious  application 
which  characterises  our  most  complicated  inven- 
tions. Too  often  the  modern  world  destroys  the 
ancient  in  order  to  take  its  place :  in  this  case  the 
modern  world  respects  the  ancient  and  helps  it  to 
carry  on  what  life  it  still  possesses.  The  works 
actually  distribute  the  light  to  six  tombs,  but  we 
only  use  it  for  three  at  a  time,  and  most  often  we 
arrange  to  have  visitors  only  in  two  of  them 
at  once.  Thanks  to  the  care  and  skill  of  M. 
Zimmermann,  there  has  been  no  accident  so  far. 
We  have  provided  for  the  case  of  sudden  failure 
or  interruption  of  the  current,  and  have  stored 
lanterns  and  candles  in  each  tomb,  but  have  not 
had  occasion  to  use  them. 

The  six  tombs  selected  for  the  first  trial  were 

188 


The  Pharaohs  by  Electric  Light 

those  of  Amenothes  II.,  Ramses  I.,  Setoui  I., 
Ramses  III.,  Ramses  V.,  and  Ramses  IX.,  tombs 
which  have  always  attracted  the  attention  of 
travellers.  Having  descended  the  worn  and 
shppery  staircase  which  leads  to  Setoui  I.,  a 
line  of  lamps  is  seen  on  the  ceiling  of  the  sloping 
gallery  which  seems  to  penetrate  far  into  the  earth, 
and  as  daylight  is  left  behind  we  are  struck  by 
the  clearness  with  which  the  smallest  details  of  the 
paintings  on  the  wall  stand  out.  In  the  places 
where  the  sculptor,  stopped  in  his  work  by  the 
death  of  the  sovereign,  has  left  whole  panels  of 
inscriptions  and  figures,  some  merely  sketched  in 
red  chalk,  others  half  raised  from  the  stone,  all  the 
technique  of  the  design  and  of  the  execution  was 
clearly  perceived :  the  sketches  of  the  workman, 
the  corrections  of  the  designer-in-chief,  the  attack 
of  the  graving  tool  on  the  surface,  the  restraint  and 
modelling  of  the  figures  and  the  hieroglyphics,  all 
the  details  of  interest  to  the  artist  or  to  the  his- 
torian of  art  stand  out  clearly  in  the  new  light. 
And  as  it  is  more  and  more  used,  gods  and 
monsters  who  were  almost  invisible  in  the  dim 
light  of  candles  or  the  smoky  coruscations  of 
magnesium  wire,  present  a  firmness  of  outline 
and  intensity  of  life  that  quite  transforms  them. 
Every  moment  there  stand  out  faces  of  kings, 
profiles  of  animals,  masks  of  wild  genii,  silhouettes 

189 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

of  goddesses  of  which  until  now  no  one  has  been 
able  to  admire  the  delicate  and  graceful  charm.  It 
is  especially  in  the  Hall  of  the  Sarcophagus,  the  one 
called  by  the  Egyptians  the  Hall  of  Gold,  that  the 
advantages  of  the  electric  light  appear.  With  its 
large  dimensions,  the  height  of  the  vaulted  roof, 
the  thickness  of  the  pillars,  who  could  boast  of  ever 
having  seen  the  whole  of  it  ?  The  most  favoured 
saw  a  few  portions,  half-bUnded  by  the  light  of  the 
magnesium  wire,  and  by  the  kind  of  twilight  that 
followed  when  the  light  was  exhausted.  They  had 
to  be  content  with  imagining  what  it  would  be  like 
if  it  was  shown  them  with  sufficient  light,  but  even 
so,  they  could  scarcely  form  any  adequate  idea  of  it. 
Now  the  lamps  are  so  distributed  and  their  light 
so  graduated  that  there  is  an  even  brilliance  every- 
where, from  the  ground  to  the  vaulted  roof.  It  is 
no  more  necessary  to  make  a  lengthy  examination 
of  each  picture,  nor  to  make  a  great  effi3rt  to  keep 
the  hues  and  tonality  in  one's  eye,  and  then  by  a 
still  greater  effort  of  memory,  of  which  few  are 
capable,  to  co-ordinate  isolated  impressions,  and  to 
deduce  from  them  an  impression  of  the  whole. 
The  impression  of  the  whole  is  now  there  from 
the  very  first,  and  it  is  a  great  deUght  to  seize 
at  once  the  richness,  the  colours,  and  the  perfect 
equilibrium  of  the  composition.  No  sooner  is 
the  light  switched  on  than  the  decoration   starts 

190 


The  Pharaohs  by  Electric  Light 

to  life  before  the   spectator,  and  is   as   clear   as 
possible. 

And  yet,  I  sometimes  ask  myself  if  these  tombs, 
now  so  brilliantly  illuminated,  may  not  lose  some 
small  part  of  their  attractiveness.  The  Egyptians 
certainly  did  not  conceive  them  thus,  and  never  at 
any  period  of  their  history  did  they  see  them  more 
distinctly  than  European  travellers  saw  them  half 
a  century  ago,  before  the  use  of  magnesium  wire. 
The  threshold  crossed  and  the  door  closed,  the 
visitors  seemed  to  have  bade  an  eternal  farewell  to 
daylight.  Darkness  engulfed  them,  all  the  more 
visible  for  the  feeble  reddish  halo  made  by  their 
torches.  Under  that  inconstant  and  short-lived 
light  the  walls  and  their  paintings  were  almost 
invisible :  the  figures  of  gods  and  the  inscriptions 
emerged  imperfectly  from  the  darkness,  and 
plunged  into  it  again  as  soon  as  the  procession 
had  passed.  We  advanced  as  in  a  dream,  haunted 
by  mysterious  forms,  and  in  fact  the  hypogeum 
was  no  longer  a  part  of  our  world.  It  had  been 
dug  out  in  resemblance  of  the  deep  valleys  that 
the  sun  passed  over  each  evening,  and  where  the 
souls  not  vowed  to  Osiris  sojourned  in  melancholy. 
On  the  walls  was  painted  or  carved  the  course  of 
the  Star  through  the  crowds  of  grieving  spirits  or 
savage  genii,  his  escort  of  magician  gods,  the 
portrait  of  the  enemies  he  fought  and  of  the  friends 

191 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

who  helped  him  to  defeat  those  enemies,  the 
incantations  he  must  recite  in  order  to  come 
triumphant  out  of  his  trial.  For  the  moderns  as 
for  the  ancients,  a  descent  into  the  ill-lighted  tomb 
of  Setoui  was  a  dim  image  of  a  journey  in  the 
regions  of  the  dead.  Does  not  the  introduction  of 
light  then  destroy  the  effect  calculated  by  the 
Egyptians  ?  The  tourists  who  are  acquainted  with 
the  destiny  of  the  Pharaohs  will  perhaps  miss  the 
sensation  of  religious  awe  they  expected,  but  how 
few  of  those  come  each  year !  The  crowd  whose 
chief  desire  is  to  see  the  things  of  which  they  have 
heard,  and  not  merely  to  guess  at  them,  has  no  such 
scruples.  The  visit  is  made  easier  by  the  use  of 
electricity,  and  they  are  delighted.  Besides,  things 
are  so  arranged  that  each,  if  he  so  wishes,  can 
instantly  be  brought  back  into  the  ancient  con- 
ditions. In  the  tomb  of  Amenothes  II.,  for 
instance,  where  the  mummy  is  still  in  its  place  in 
the  sarcophagus,  one  of  the  funeral  ceremonies  is 
rehearsed.  At  a  given  signal  the  lights  are 
switched  off  except  one  above  the  head  of  the 
sovereign.  It  is  what  the  priests  called  the 
Illumination  of  the  Face :  they  threw  the  flame  of 
their  lamps  on  to  the  face  of  the  mummy  to  assure 
him  of  the  enjoyment  of  eternal  light.  After  a 
few  minutes  the  guide  switches  on  the  other  lights 
all   at  once,   or  one   after  the  other,  as   may  be 

192 


The  Pharaohs  by  Electric  Light 

preferred.  Thus  the  effect  may  be  varied,  and  the 
tomb  shown  under  its  former  aspect  before  seeing 
it  under  the  new  conditions.  The  six  tombs  are 
all  similarly  arranged,  and  our  system  has  at  least 
the  advantage  of  contenting  everybody.  Those 
who  desire  to  know  the  decoration  in  detail  and  to 
see  it  clearly,  can  command  floods  of  Ught  without 
risk  or  damage  to  the  monument.  Subtler  minds 
can  command  semi-obscurity,  and  enjoy  the 
illusion  of  a  visit  to  the  gods  of  the  Egyptian 
Hades. 


193 


XVIII 

AN  ARAB  TALE 

When  Ramses  had  fought  for  sixteen  years 
against  the  Hittites  and  had  concluded  a  treaty 
of  peace  and  friendship  with  them,  which  at  last 
left  him  lord  of  Canaan,  he  felt  so  proud  and 
happy  that  he  engraved  the  text  in  large  hiero- 
glyphics on  the  monuments,  wherever  he  found  a 
blank  wall.  The  first  specimen  of  this  is  at  Kar- 
nak  in  the  large  sanctuary  on  the  right  bank,  and 
a  second  on  one  of  the  pylons  of  the  Ramesseum 
on  the  left  bank.  While  freeing  the  pedestal  of 
the  gigantic  colossus  which  encumbered  the 
adjoining  court  with  its  debris,  I  had  the  good  for- 
tune a  few  days  ago  to  discover  a  third  one.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  very  mutilated  inscription,  of  which  only 
four  or  five  Hues  at  most  are  legible;  but  in 
archaeology  nothing  should  be  neglected,  and  I 
settled  down  to  copy  it.  Three  fat  lizards  and  a 
small  adder,  which  were  basking  in  the  sun,  gave 
place  to  me,  hissing  incessantly  and  furious  at 
being  disturbed;    with  the  remains  of  the  wall 

194 


An  Arab  Tale 

8  inches  in  front  of  me  and  enormous  blocks  of 
granite  12  inches  behind  me,  I  was  in  a  kind  of 
deep  funnel,  in  which  I  was  entirely  hidden,  and  a 
regiment  of  tourists  could  have  passed  by  without 
suspecting  that  there  was  any  one  amongst  the 
ruins.  I  was  fully  occupied  in  wondering  whether 
a  bird,  the  tail  of  which  only  was  distinguishable, 
had  been  an  eagle  or  a  screech-owl  in  better  days, 
when  voices  rose  from  the  other  side  of  the  wall 
where  two  of  the  temple  guards,  my  donkey-boy 
and  three  friends  who  had  joined  him  on  the  way 
there,  were  lying  in  the  shade  and  talking  freely, 
unconscious  of  my  close  proximity.  As  they  were 
discussing  local  affairs  of  no  interest  to  me,  I 
only  Ustened  abstractedly;  but  soon,  after  some 
whisperings  that  became  more  and  more  indistinct, 
one  of  them  coughed  loudly,  and  I  understood 
from  the  tone  that  he  was  going  to  relate  a  story. 
It  began,  as  usual,  with  the  mention  of  a  name- 
less Sultan,  very  powerful  and  very  rich,  who  had 
reigned  of  old,  long  ages  before,  and  who  used  to  live 
in  the  Temple  of  Louxor.  Not  far  from  his  castle 
there  lived  a  poor  man,  a  linen  and  cotton  merchant, 
who  scarcely  earned  sufficient  on  which  to  live. 
His  house  consisted  of  only  one  room  and  a  small 
yard,  in  the  corner  of  which  grew  a  fig-tree. 
When  the  tree  bore  figs  he  ate  two  each  day  with 
his  bread,  and  when  the  figs  were  over  he  ate  his 

195 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

bread  dry  and  praised  God,  for  he  was  very  pious 
and  possessed  all  the  virtues.  One  winter  afternoon, 
on  returning  home  when  his  work  was  done  to 
offer  up  a  prayer,  he  noticed  that  his  fig-tree  had 
suddenly  put  forth  ten  of  the  most  beautiful  figs 
in  the  world ;  one  of  them  was  round,  large,  red, 
and  on  the  verge  of  falling  if  it  was  not  gathered, 
and  the  others  were  of  various  degrees  of  ripeness. 
His  first  act  was  to  thank  God  who  had  performed 
this  miracle  for  him  ;  but  instead  of  gathering  and 
feasting  on  the  ripe  fig,  he  went  at  once  to  consult 
his  neighbour  the  rammdl,  who  read  the  future  in 
sand.  The  rammdl  took  his  box  of  sand,  traced 
some  lines  therein,  jotted  down  some  calculations, 
muttered  a  rune,  and  read  the  oracle :  "  Every 
day  for  ten  days  you  must  take  one  of  your  figs 
to  the  Sultan.  On  the  tenth  day  your  destiny  will 
be  fulfilled,  and  the  good  and  the  wicked  will  each 
find  their  proper  place." 

The  Sultan  of  Louxor,  like  all  self-respecting 
Sultans,  used  to  give  audience  every  morning, 
starting  at  sunrise.  He  sat  outside  the  first  court, 
between  two  obehsks,  and  patiently  Hstened  to  the 
grievances  or  petitions  of  his  subjects.  The  inter- 
view sometimes  ended  with  a  gift,  sometimes  with 
a  benevolent  thrashing  administered  by  the  officers 
of  the  army  with  elegance  and  speed.  At  a  quarter 
to  twelve  the  good  prince  broke  up  the  sitting  and 

196 


An  Arab  Tale 

returned  to  the  palace,  convinced  that  he  had  not 
wasted  his  morning.  The  merchant  had  waited 
since  dawn  in  the  court,  with  his  beautiful  fig 
lying  on  a  china  plate  between  two  embroidered 
napkins.  When  his  turn  came  he  prostrated 
himself  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and  presented  the 
plate  to  the  sovereign,  saying  that  God  had 
favoured  him  by  sending  him  out  of  season  ten 
magnificent  figs,  of  such  wonderful  size  and 
perfume  that  they  were  evidently  not  intended  for 
an  ordinary  subject ;  he  had  ventured  to  bring  the 
first,  and  if  the  Sultan  consented  he  would  come 
every  morning  to  offer  him  one  or  other  as  they 
ripened.  The  Sultan  highly  approved  of  the 
sentiment  of  propriety  revealed  by  this  proceeding. 
He  even  deigned  to  eat  the  fig,  and,  having  found 
it  to  his  taste,  commanded  his  vizier,  who  stood 
behind,  to  give  the  man  a  cloak  of  honour  and 
a  hundred  English  guineas.  The  poor  man  went 
home  in  the  highest  of  spirits  ;  he  immediately 
bought  himself  a  rifle,  a  watch,  and  a  white 
donkey,  and  invited  his  neighbours  to  a  splendid 
feast,  where  twenty  dishes  of  stew,  forty  plates  of 
sweets,  and  numberless  iced  drinks  were  served  up. 

"  And  wine,  too  ? "  asked  the  donkey-boy. 

"Yes;  wine  like  that  on  Cook's  ships — white 
wine  which  froths  and  makes  a  noise  when  the 
bottle  is  imcorked." 

197 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

"  Allah !  Allah !  "  responded  the  three  guards  in 
chorus.  "  How  fortunate  is  he  who  can  have  such 
drinks  1" 

The  next  day  the  second  fig  arrived,  and  the 
third  fig  on  the  day  following,  until  only  three 
were  left  on  the  tree.  Each  time  the  gift  was 
more  valuable — slaves,  camels,  lands,  gold  and 
silver  coins — so  that  the  vizier  grew  jealous.  "  Great 
God  I  "  he  said  to  himself ;  "  if  I  don't  take  care  the 
Sultan  may  cast  me  off  and  install  this  plotter  in 
my  place."  So  he  went  secretly  by  night  and  paid 
the  poor  man  a  visit.  After  the  customary 
compliments  he  said,  "  The  Sultan  talks  of  you 
unceasingly,  and  he  even  thinks  of  giving  you  his 
daughter  in  marriage,  but  one  thing  disturbs  him 
and  holds  him  back.  You  evidently  eat  a  quantity 
of  garlic,  and  he  greatly  dislikes  the  smell.  You 
would  do  well,  therefore,  to  appear  at  the 
audience  with  a  piece  of  white  linen  over  your 
mouth ;  he  will  be  pleased  with  the  attention,  and 
you  will  be  rewarded  for  it  as  you  deserve."  So 
the  poor  man  presented  himself  all  muffled  in 
muslin.  When  he  was  going  away  the  Sultan 
asked  the  vizier  what  this  masquerade  meant.  "  I 
do  not  know,"  replied  the  latter ;  "  but  if  it  please 
your  Majesty  I  will  find  out."  He  hastened  away, 
and  returning  with  a  very  long  face,  could  not  be 
induced  to  speak  for  quite  a  long  time.     However, 

198 


An  Arab  Tale 

as  the  Sultan  grew  impatient,  and  as  his  beard 
began  to  bristle,  the  vizier  prostrated  himself  and 
murmured  in  his  softest  voice,  "Your  Majesty- 
must  deign  to  remember  that  you  have  to  do  with 
a  poor  unfortunate  man,  a  fellah,  a  clown  in  whom 
good  manners  are  not  to  be  expected.  He  seems 
very  grateful  for  the  kindness  with  which  your 
Majesty  has  loaded  him,  but  he  tells  me  quite 
frankly  that  your  Majesty's  breath  is  the  worst 
that  can  be  imagined,  and  that  he  feels  ready  to 
faint  each  time  you  deign  to  interview  him. 
Thanks  to  the  linen  which  he  had  wrapped 
round  his  nose  and  mouth,  he  has  been  able  to 
endure  to-day's  conversation  without  too  much 
discomfort."  "  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  the  king,  "  and 
does  this  strange  man  dislike  our  odour?"  And 
he  was  fast  becoming  enraged,  when  suddenly  he 
burst  out  laughing.  "  It  does  not  matter,"  he 
said ;  "  I  don't  want  to  be  in  his  debt,  and  if 
he  comes  again  to  honour  me  with  his  figs  I 
wiU  make  him  a  gift  by  the  side  of  which  all 
that  he  has  received  before  will  count  as  nothing." 
The  vizier  went  home  much  disturbed,  and  not 
too  sure  that  he  had  not  increased  the  man's 
favour  while  hoping  to  lessen  it.  Next  day  the 
merchant  reappeared  as  on  the  day  before,  half 
swathed  in  muslin.  The  Sultan  looked  at  him  for 
a  minute,  and  then  asked  for  pen,  ink,  and  paper. 

199 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

He  wrote  a  note,  sealed  it,  and  gave  it  with  his 
own  seal  to  the  man,  telling  him  to  go  to  the 
Treasury  very  early  next  morning.  He  was  to 
deUver  the  note  and  seal  to  the  chief  treasurer, 
and  would  certainly  not  regret  his  trouble.  When 
the  audience  closed,  the  vizier  joined  the  man  and 
congratulated  him,  but,  he  added,  "  His  Majesty 
is  so  pleased  with  you  that  he  wishes  to  spare 
you  the  sKghtest  trouble.  This  note  is  a  com- 
mand to  give  a  thousand  pounds  to  the  bearer 
of  the  seal.  Here  are  the  thousand  pounds 
correctly  counted  out;  give  me  the  seal  and 
the  letter,  which  are  useless  to  you."  As  soon 
as  he  had  them  in  his  hand  the  vizier  never 
doubted  that  his  fortune  was  made.  He  scarcely 
slept  that  night,  so  great  was  his  impatience,  and 
dawn  found  him  at  the  door  of  the  Treasury. 
The  treasurer  read  the  note,  kissed  the  seal 
reverently,  and  raised  one  finger  ;  two  soldiers 
of  the  guard  seized  the  vizier  and  cut  off  his 
head  before  he  had  time  to  reaUse  what  had 
happened  to  him. 

However,  the  audience  began,  and  the  man 
with  the  figs  was  standing  in  his  usual  place,  the 
plate  in  his  hand  and  the  cloth  round  his  mouth. 
The  Sultan,  who  could  not  believe  his  eyes,  rubbed 
them  vigorously,  but  the  man  was  still  there. 
He  turned  round  to  point  him  out  to  the  vizier, 

200 


An  Arab  Tale 

but  the  vizier  was  not  there.  The  same  minute 
the  treasurer  entered  with  a  leather  bag  in  his 
hand.  On  seeing  him  the  Sultan  said,  "  Why 
did  you  not  behead  the  man  I  sent  to  you  ? " 
"Pardon  me,  your  Majesty,  I  put  him  to  death 
as  you  commanded.  Besides,  here  is  the  head." 
And  he  placed  the  vizier's  head  in  front  of  the 
throne.  "What,"  cried  the  Sultan,  "have  you 
killed  my  minister?"  "  Sire,"  replied  the  treasurer, 
"did  not  your  Majesty  command  me  to  behead 
on  the  spot  the  person  who  brought  me  the  note 
and  the  royal  seal  ? "  "  Doubtless,  but  it  was 
not  the  vizier  who  was  to  bring  them."  "All 
the  same,  it  was  he  who  brought  them." 

As  this  in  no  way  enlightened  the  Sultan, 
he  decided  to  send  for  the  poor  man,  and 
commanded  him  on  pain  of  death  to  relate  all 
that  had  happened.  Then  the  latter  explained 
how  the  vizier  had  advised  him  to  tie  up  his 
mouth  and  for  what  reason,  and  how  he  had 
pocketed  the  thousand  guineas  in  exchange  for 
the  note  and  the  seal.  In  his  astonishment  at 
the  adventure,  the  Sultan  praised  God.  "  This 
vizier,"  said  he,  "was  a  wicked  man,  but  all's 
well  that  ends  well.  He  stole  your  place  and  paid 
for  it  with  his  own  head ;  take  his  place  in  your 
turn  and  be  my  vizier."  The  merchant  bowed 
his    head    to   the   dust,   and  prostrating   himself 

201 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

repeated,  "  The  rammdl  was  right,  blessed  be  the 
rammdl!''  "And  what  had  the  rammdl  to  do 
with  this  affair  ? "  "  Sire,  when  T  consulted  him, 
did  he  not  announce  to  me  that  on  the  tenth 
day  the  good  and  the  wicked  would  each  find 
his  proper  place?  And  now  to-day  is  the  tenth 
day :  the  vizier  is  dead,  and  I  am  in  the  vizier's 
place  I " 

One  story  follows  another,  and  the  narrator 
had  already  made  a  fresh  start  when  some  one 
called  me.  I  had  to  answer  and  betray  my 
hiding-place.  My  fellahs,  in  consternation  at 
learning  I  was  so  close,  fled  noiselessly,  and  I 
went  on  with  the  study  of  the  tail  of  my  bird. 
The  Egyptians  dislike  showing  themselves  to 
Europeans  as  they  really  are,  and  we  might  live 
among  them  for  years  without  reahsing  that 
with  a  httle  dexterity  we  might  succeed  in 
drawing  from  them  matter  for  a  whole  new 
volume  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights."  A  little 
donkey  driver  from  Gournah,  to  whom  I  told 
a  well-arranged  version  of  the  "Peau  d'Ane" 
between  the  temple  of  Setoui  and  the  Bab-el- 
Molouk,  gratified  me  in  return  with  a  half  a 
dozen  stories,  partly  satirical,  partly  sentimental, 
which  left  a  charming  impression  on  me.  Would 
they  please  others  as  well  as  myself  ?  I  threaded 
my  way  through  the  flowering  beans  at  the  gentle 

202 


An  Arab  Tale 

pace  of  which  the  donkeys  are  very  fond  when 
they  have  not  been  spoiled  by  tourists'  eccen- 
tricities ;  and  as  my  day's  work  was  finished, 
I  abandoned  myself  to  the  pleasure  of  idly 
listening  to  my  companion.  He  chanted  his 
stories  in  a  guttural  voice  as  he  ambled  at  my 
side,  and  his  breathless  sentences,  the  laugh 
interrupting  them  at  the  humorous  points,  his 
perpetual  repetitions  of  formulas  and  words,  gave 
a  singular  savour  to  what  he  said.  This  is 
assuredly  the  way  in  which  the  talkative  donkey- 
boys  of  the  times  of  Ramses  told  the  "  Tale  of 
the  Two  Brothers "  or  that  of  "  The  Predestined 
Prince"  to  travellers.  Evidently  the  story  owed 
half  its  interest  to  its  surroundings,  and  I  fear 
that  in  taking  it  out  of  its  setting  it  may  have 
lost  the  best  of  its  flavour  and  colour. 


203 


XIX 

THE  OPENING  OP  A  NEW  ROYAL  TOMB 
AT  THEBES 

Mr.  Theodore  Davis,  an  American  who  spends 
his  winters  in  Egypt,  provided  the  money;  the 
Service  des  Antiquites  helped  to  conduct  the 
excavations,  and  thus  aiding  each  other,  dis- 
covered one  of  the  rare  royal  hypogeums  which 
remain  to  be  found  at  Biban  el-Molouk  in  the 
valley  where  the  Theban  Pharaohs  formerly 
reposed.  The  quest  was  neither  long  nor 
fatiguing.  On  the  18th  of  January  last  year,^ 
after  carefully  examining  the  ground  with  Mr. 
Carter,  the  inspector-in-chief  of  the  Said,  it  had 
seemed  to  me  that  the  steep  ravine  in  which 
M.  Loret  found  in  1899  the  intact  h)rpogeum 
of  a  prince  Maiharpiriou,  ought  to  contain  some 
other  tomb.  A  workshop  was  set  up  there,  and 
attacking  it  from  the  bottom  we  went  slowly  up 
the  slope,  exploring  everything  on  the  way.     Mr. 

*  This  was  written  in  February,  1903. 
204 


opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

Carter  first  found  objects  that  had  belonged 
to  Maiharpiriou,  fragments  of  variegated  glass, 
clippings  of  cut  cornelian,  pieces  of  a  chest  with 
the  name  Amenothes  III.,  and  last,  in  a  wooden 
box,  two  corselets  in  cut  leather  in  astonishing 
preservation.  A  little  higher  up  the  name  of 
Thoutmosis  IV.  began  to  come  out  of  the  earth, 
and  a  piece  of  limestone  was  picked  up  on  which 
the  portrait  of  the  Pharaoh  was  sketched  in  black 
ink,  as  well  as  pieces  of  an  alabaster  vase  in 
which  his  cartouches  could  be  discerned.  We 
could  no  longer  doubt  that  he  was  buried  near 
there  in  some  cavity  of  the  ground.  But  the  mass 
of  rubbish  was  so  enormous  that  when  Mr.  Davis, 
leaving  Louxor  in  March,  asked  that  operations 
might  be  suspended,  we  had  not  reached  the 
entrance.  It  was  only  on  the  17th  of  January 
last  that  the  reis  Mohammed,  having  come  to  the 
beginning  of  the  ravine,  saw  the  door  in  the  rock 
at  the  foot  of  the  cUff.  Mr.  Carter  immediately 
came  and  cUmbed  into  the  chamber  of  the  sar- 
cophagus amid  the  rubbish.  The  mummy  had 
been  in  the  Museum  for  three  years,  but  the 
equipment  with  which  it  was  provided  on  the 
day  of  the  funeral  was  scattered  over  the  ground 
in  the  same  places  where  the  thieves  had  thrown 
it  after  despoiling  the  mummy.  Mr.  Carter 
rapidly  surveyed  the  condition  of  the  place,  then 

205 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

barricaded  the  door  afresh,  and  we  telegraphed  to 
Mr.  Davis  to  come  back  from  Assouan,  which 
he  was  visiting  at  the  moment. 

On  February  3rd,  in  the  morning,  all  those  who 
had  a  right  to  be  present  at  the  opening  were 
assembled  at  Biban  el-Molouk,  Mr.  Davis  and 
his  family,  Mr.  Carter,  M.  Legrain,  and  M.  Baraize, 
of  the  Service  des  Antiquites,  a  few  Egyptologists 
visiting  Thebes,  Mr.  Newberry,  Mr.  Tytus,  M.  de 
Bissing,  and  M.  de  Lacau.  Thoutmosis  IV.  had 
set  up  his  House  of  Eternity  in  one  of  the  wildest 
recesses  of  the  valley.  It  was  a  projection  of  the 
rock,  forming  a  cornice  half-way  up  the  side,  and 
hardly  accessible  through  a  slope  of  rubbish.  He 
had  smoothed  it  by  the  use  of  the  pickaxe,  and  had 
formed  an  irregular  platform  on  which  fifty  persons 
could  easily  move  about.  Free  on  the  north  and 
west,  at  the  east  and  south  it  is  fixed  to  the 
resisting  rock,  which  rises  almost  perpendicularly 
to  a  height  of  60  feet.  A  trench  dug  out  in  the 
ground  towards  the  south  descends  in  a  rapid 
incline,  and  penetrates  under  a  doorway  barred 
with  rubbish.  Beyond,  the  corridor  is  lost  in  the 
darkness,  and  the  figures  of  the  workmen  are  con- 
fused. They  have  been  labouring  since  dawn  to 
clear  the  approaches  to  the  first  chamber.  The 
baskets  of  sand  pass  swiftly  from  hand  to  hand  and 
are  emptied  outside,  while  the  electricians  of  the 

20a 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

Service,  after  fixing  a  provisory  wire  to  our  work- 
shop, await,  lamps  in  hand,  the  signal  for  depar- 
ture. It  is  not  yet  a  question  of  entirely  exca- 
vating the  hypogeum,  and  the  road  we  follow  is 
only  a  narrow  passage  wide  enough  to  admit  a 
renewal  of  air  and  the  explorer.  The  roof  is  low, 
the  incline  steep  and  slippery,  and  the  debris  of 
which  it  is  formed  glide  away  beneath  the  feet. 
A  thick  rope  has  been  stretched  along  the  corridors, 
held  up  at  intervals  by  strong  workmen,  which  can 
be  grasped  by  the  hands  of  those  unaccustomed  to 
these  descents  into  Hades.  After  a  few  yards  day- 
light vanishes,  the  electric  lamps  are  lighted,  the 
corridor  plunges  obliquely  into  the  rock,  rough, 
bare,  blackened  here  and  there  by  the  smoke  of  the 
old  torches.  At  a  depth  of  about  thirty  yards  it 
kept  level  for  a  httle  and  then  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted. A  square  chasm  about  four  yards  broad 
and  ten  deep  yawned  darkly  at  our  feet.  It  served 
two  ends :  first  it  barred  the  way  to  thieves,  and 
then  in  times  of  storm,  if  by  chance  the  water 
forced  its  way  through  the  barrier  of  sand  that 
stopped  up  the  entrance,  it  would  be  kept  there 
and  would  thus  be  prevented  from  penetrating  into 
the  chamber  where  the  mummy  slept.  The  chasm 
proved  itself  more  effectual  against  water  than 
against  men,  for  thieves  in  ancient  times  had 
crossed  it   by    beams   thrown    over    it,  and    we 

207 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

followed  their  example.  A  footbridge  constructed 
a  few  days  before  took  us  safely  to  the  other  side. 
Yellow  stars  on  dark-blue  ground  were  scattered 
over  the  ceiling;  near  the  top  of  the  walls  were 
scenes  of  adoration  which  deserved  careful  study, 
but  we  scarcely  looked  at  them,  so  eager  were  we 
to  reach  the  centre  of  the  place,  and  it  was  almost 
in  a  run  that  we  entered  the  first  chamber. 

It  fits  into  the  right  corner  of  the  prolongation 
of  the  corridor,  and  runs  from  east  to  west.  It  is 
as  if  crushed  down  under  a  low  ceiling  supported 
by  two  squat  piUars  retained  in  the  mass  on  the 
great  axis,  and  the  walls  have  remained  rough. 
The  tomb  is  in  this  palace  of  the  dead  king,  the 
equivalent  of  the  HaU  of  Colunms  in  the  Palace  of 
Thebes  where  the  living  king  gave  audience  to  his 
subjects.  In  the  north-east  corner  a  badly  quarried 
staircase  is  cut  in  the  rock,  and  comes  out  at  the 
end  of  about  twenty  yards  in  a  room  longer  than 
it  is  broad,  which  serves  as  a  sort  of  ante-chamber 
to  the  funeral  vault.  It  is  covered  with  very  fine 
paintings  as  far  as  can  be  judged  from  the  inter- 
stices left  by  the  heaps  of  sand  or  pebbles  that  lean 
up  against  the  walls  and  partly  hide  them.  A  hasty 
glance  shows  the  usual  scenes :  the  dead  man  wor- 
shipping before  the  gods  of  the  West  and  present- 
ing his  offerings  with  his  prayers,  or  clasped  in  the 
arms  of  goddesses,  drinking  at  their  breasts  the 

208 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

milk  that  was  to  infuse  life  into  his  veins.  A 
glance  at  the  hieroglyphics  and  we  are  certain  it 
has  to  do  with  Thoutmosis  IV.  The  cartouches 
traced  by  the  side  of  him  would  bear  witness  to 
that  fact  if  confirmation  were  needed.  But  is  there 
not  to  be  found  among  the  commonplaces  of 
mortuary  imagery  some  inscription  that  will  give 
us  information  regarding  his  history?  And,  indeed, 
there  on  the  right  wall  are  two  fine  hieratic  inscrip- 
tions: two  sgraffiti  written  in  black  ink  in  the 
empty  space  between  two  figures.  It  was  a 
custom  of  the  Pharaohs  to  instruct  certain  high 
functionaries  to  inspect  the  royal  tombs  at  intervals 
to  verify  the  state  of  the  place  and  the  condition  of 
the  mummies,  to  see  if  the  linen  wrappings  were 
damaged  or  if  the  funerary  equipment  had  suffered 
from  men  or  from  time.  It  often  happened  that 
these  officers  had  to  report  sad  discoveries.  The 
brigands  did  not  respect  these  dead  royalties. 
Sometimes,  with  the  complicity  of  their  official 
guards,  they  had  pulled  them  from  their  coffins,  torn 
their  wrappings,  stolen  their  jewels,  their  royal 
insignia,  their  amulets,  their  valuable  arms.  It 
was  then  necessary  reverently  to  pick  up  the  dis- 
honoured corpses,  to  robe  them  afresh,  put  them 
back  in  their  sarcophagus,  and  replace  the  por- 
tions of  their  equipment  that  had  been  destroyed. 
The  work  accompUshed,  the  functionaries  withdrew, 

209  o 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

but  not  before  recording  somewhere  on  a  coffin 
lid  a  circumstantial  account  of  the  proceedings. 

All  such  inscriptions  that  we  have  belong  to  the 
period  of  the  later  Ramses  or  the  high  priests  of 
Amon,  and  here  the  new  inscriptions  are  con- 
ceived in  the  most  correct  hieratic  of  the  XVIIIth 
Dynasty.  Would  the  robbery  of  the  hypogeum 
have  begun  almost  directly  after  the  burial  ?  The 
principal  sgraffite  tells  us  in  its  eight  lines  that 
in  the  year  VIII.  of  this  Armais,  who  was  the  last 
Pharaoh  of  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty  or  the  first  of 
the  XlXth,  "the  fourth  month  of  Shait,  his  divine 
Majesty  ordered  that  Maiya,  son  of  Wai  and  his 
lady  Ouerit,  the  fan-bearer  on  the  right  of  the 
king,  a  royal  scribe,  superintendent  of  the 
treasure,  head  of  the  works  of  the  necropoUs, 
leader  of  the  festival  of  Theban  Amon-ra,  be  com- 
missioned to  repair  the  mummy  of  the  king 
Thoutmosis  IV.  in  his  august  dwelling  which  is  on 
the  West  of  Thebes."  The  shortest  sgraffite  has 
preserved  the  name  of  "his  secretary,  the  governor 
of  the  town  and  lord  Thoutmosis,  son  of  Hatai 
and  of  his  lady  Souhak,"  he  who  with  his  own 
hand  traced  on  the  wall  the  brief  account  of  the 
visit.  It  is  therefore  certain  that  a  httle  less  than 
a  century  after  the  burial  it  was  necessary  to 
restore  the  mummy  of  Thoutmosis  IV. 

Had  it  already  been  violated  and  despoiled  of 

210 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

its  treasures  ?  The  reign  of  Armais  closes  a  period 
of  religious  revolutions  and  civil  wars.  We  know 
now  from  one  of  his  inscriptions  that  at  his  acces- 
sion he  found  Egypt  completely  disorganised. 
The  provinces  were  in  arms  one  against  the  other, 
and  the  soldiers  roved  about  the  land  in  search  of 
adventure,  sacking  villages  and  plundering  travel- 
lers. It  was  to  be  feared  that  one  of  those  bands 
would  have  rifled  the  royal  necropolis,  and  to 
relieve  the  doubt  Armais  despatched  Maiya  and 
his  agents  to  Biban  el-Molouk.  But  the  terms  of 
the  document  show  that  no  one  had  touched  the 
tomb  of  Thoutmosis  IV.  It  was  merely  needful 
to  robe  the  mummy  again,  since  its  wrappings 
had  decayed  from  age,  and  to  replace  the  dried-up 
offerings  by  fresh  offerings,  and  in  so  doing  to 
borrow  from  the  neighbouring  tomb  of  Queen 
Hatshopsouitou  a  few  alabaster  utensils  in  the 
name  of  the  Pharaoh.  The  robbery  took  place 
later  under  the  XXth  Dynasty,  and  the  dam- 
age was  irreparable.  The  sarcophagus  chamber 
into  which  we  penetrated  on  leaving  the  ante- 
chamber seemed  to  us  from  the  threshold 
entirely  upset.  It  resembles  that  of  Amenothes 
II.,  oblong,  low,  narrow,  divided  by  two  rows 
of  three  pillars  each  into  three  naves  of  equal 
size.  Towards  the  northern  end  the  ground 
has  been  dug  out  for  about  4  or  5  feet  to  form 

211 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

a  sort  of  rectangular  alcove,  reached  by  a  stair- 
case of  five  or  six  steps  between  the  two  last 
pillars.  It  is  flanked  by  four  cabinets,  two  on 
the  right  and  two  on  the  left.  They  represent  the 
private  apartments  of  the  dead  personage,  the 
retreat  in  which  he  hid  his  mortal  remains,  and  that 
his  divine  soul  inhabited  or  left  according  to  his 
desire  during  the  ample  leisure  of  life  beyond 
the  grave.  The  alcove  being  reserved  for  the 
sarcophagus  and  the  mummy,  the  rest  of  the 
central  apartment  contained  the  most  important 
portion  of  the  funerary  equipment  and  larder. 

The  side  rooms  served  as  a  store-house  for 
the  remaining  furniture  and  pro\dsions  or  for 
vaults  for  the  princes  of  the  family  who  died 
young.  It  is  probable  that  the  little  mummy 
placed  in  one  of  them  is  that  of  a  prince, 
Amenemhait,  son  of  Thoutmosis  IV.,  to  whom, 
had  he  lived,  the  crown  would  have  reverted 
by  right.  The  objects  consecrated  to  the  use 
of  the  dead  during  the  funeral  were  neatly 
arranged  on  tables,  or  piled  up  on  the  bare 
ground  against  the  walls  or  the  piUars,  as  they  had 
been  formerly  in  the  store-houses  of  the  palace. 
The  richness  and  elegance  of  most  of  them  pre- 
sented from  the  first  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
rough  and  desolate  aspect  of  the  place  that  gave 
them  shelter.     Thoutmosis  IV.  having  in  fact  been 

212 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

gathered  to  his  fathers  before  his  tomb  was 
finished,  the  works  had  been  immediately  sus- 
pended. There  was  no  inscription,  no  painting, 
no  sketch,  even  no  whitewash,  in  the  mortuary- 
chamber  or  its  dependencies,  and  the  last  workman 
in  departing  had  not  swept  up  the  filth  which 
soiled  the  ground.  The  valuable  stuffs,  the  furni- 
ture, arms,  and  provisions  were  mingled  with 
fragments  of  stone  broken  off  the  ceiling  and  with 
pieces  of  broken  tools.  The  thieves  took  away 
those  things  that  had  a  value  for  them,  gold, 
silver,  jewels,  fine  plate.  They  turned  everjrthing 
else  upside  down,  and  reduced  almost  to  powder 
what  they  did  not  care  to  carry  ofl. 

All  this  confused  and  disorderly  debris  formed  so 
thick  a  litter  that  it  was  not  possible  to  venture 
into  it  without  running  the  risk  of  crushing  the 
things  by  the  dozen.  Mr.  Carter  therefore  made 
a  path  of  planks  on  trestles  about  8  inches 
above  it,  and  which  reached  to  the  sarcophagus. 
That  at  least  was  intact.  Like  the  sarcophagi  of 
Amenothes  II.  and  of  Thoutmosis  III.,  it  is  of  white 
limestone  but  painted  dark  red  to  simulate  the 
statuary  sandstone.  The  exterior  is  adorned  with 
the  usual  scenes,  the  two  mystic  eyes,  the  king 
worshipping  before  the  funerary  divinities,  and 
the  children  of  Horus.  The  lid  has  not  been 
shattered  by  blows  of  the  hammer  nor  roughly 

213 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

thrown  to  the  ground.  It  was  carefully  removed 
at  the  time  of  the  theft,  placed  upside  down  in 
front  of  the  basin,  and  the  two  ends  propped  up 
with  two  heifers'  heads  in  painted  wood  to  prevent 
the  polished  face  from  touching  the  rough  ground. 
A  heap  of  undistinguishable  objects  lie  at  the  side, 
among  which  we  vaguely  perceive  splintered 
statues  of  double,  and  figures  of  gods  or  animals 
in  cedar- wood  smeared  with  tar.  In  a  corner  on 
an  unburnt  brick  stood  a  statuette,  and  the 
inscription  on  it  informed  us  that  it  was  entrusted 
with  the  protection  of  the  mummy  against  the 
demons  which  haunt  the  tombs.  "  If  you  attack 
it,  I  shall  attack  you,  and  you  wiU  have  to  deal 
with  me"  was  the  substance  of  its  remarks.  It 
was  placed  there  in  accordance  vnth  the  rules  of 
the  funeral  ritual,  and  we  wanted  to  search 
immediately  for  three  similar  ones  which  were 
hidden  under  the  rubbish.  Fragments  of  vases  in 
coloured  glass  or  painted  pottery  were  scattered 
about  in  hundreds,  and  wherever  the  light  feU 
there  started  out  of  the  darkness  an  amulet,  a 
Respondent  in  enamelled  porcelain,  an  armful  of 
dried  leaves,  a  rag  of  fine  linen,  alabaster  dishes 
and  phials,  necklaces  of  threaded  pearls.  In  the 
midst  of  the  disorder  the  eye  was  attracted  by  a 
blackish  mass  of  unusual  aspect,  it  was  the  body  of 
a  chariot  that  by  some  unknown  happy  chance 

214 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

had  remained  whole  and  safe.  The  frame 
was  of  a  Hght  unpliable  wood,  skilfully  twisted, 
covered  with  a  double  trimming  of  leather,  orna- 
mented with  reliefs  on  both  sides  ;  in  the  front  the 
sovereign  inscribes  the  peoples  of  the  north  and 
those  of  the  south ;  on  the  inside  those  tribes  are 
represented  and  catalogued.  It  is  in  thin  relief, 
touched  up  with  a  penknife  with  an  extraordinary 
sureness  of  hand.  In  their  genre  the  design  and 
execution  are  as  perfect  as  those  of  the  greatly 
admired  paintings  of  the  trophy  of  Amenothes  III. 
in  the  Cairo  Museum.  ^  At  first  view  it  seems 
that  the  other  pieces  are  there — the  pole,  the  wheels, 
the  harness  for  the  horses,  the  quivers  for  the 
arrows,  and  the  cases  for  the  javelins — and  that 
without  undue  trouble  the  whole  could  be 
restored.  2  If  we  had  succeeded  we  should 
possess  a  specimen,  unique  in  its  kind,  of  the  cere- 
monial chariot  of  a  conqueror  of  the  XVIIIth 
Dynasty,  that  on  which  he  returned  to  Thebes 
after  his  victories,  and  which  figured  in  his  funeral 
procession  when  his  mummy  was  carried  to  the 
House  of  Eternity.     As  he  had  used  it  in  this 

'  The  Stela  trophy  described  in  the  "  Guide  to  the  Cairo 
Museum,"  3rd  edit.,  pp.  124-5. 

»  The  hope  has  not  been  realised.  The  important  parts 
were  broken  into  so  many  pieces,  and  the  pieces  were 
so  rotten,  that  we  were  unable  to  make  the  restoration. 

215 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

world  when,  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  popu- 
lace, he  repaired  to  the  Temple  of  Amon,  so  he 
desired  to  enter  the  other  world  and  to  appear 
there  as  a  conqueror  in  the  midst  of  his  fathers,  the 
gods  of  the  West. 

The  presence  of  so  much  wealth  stirs  our 
emotions,  and,  the  instincts  of  our  vocation  awak- 
ing, we  are  anxious  to  remove  these  debris  with- 
out delay,  to  hold  them  in  our  hands  and  to  examine 
them  one  by  one  to  decipher  the  inscriptions,  and 
solve  the  problems  they  offer.  But  we  must  resist 
the  temptation.  As  soon  as  we  depart,  Mr.  Carter 
will  enter  on  the  work,  and  will  not  rest  until  he 
has  emptied  the  tomb.  He  will  then  draw  the 
objects  and  send  them  to  the  Museum,  where  we 
shall  try  to  match  the  pieces,  and  then  to  restore 
the  objects.  When  that  work  is  finished  Mr. 
Davis,  who  provided  the  money  for  the  excava- 
tion, will  also  provide  the  money  for  pubUcation, 
and  before  long  all  will  be  able  to  study  what  the 
tomb  contained  at  their  ease.  For  the  moment 
we  have  only  to  enjoy  the  wonderful  sight  before 
our  eyes.  The  electric  light  does  not  penetrate 
the  dusty,  heavy  air  very  well,  and  from  the  corner 
where  I  stood  my  companions  looked  like  vague 
silhouettes.  The  dread  of  the  tomb,  so  lately  shut 
up,  and  whence  the  visits  of  tourists  has  not 
banished  the  impression  of  death,  has  invaded  them 

216 


Opening  of  a  Royal  Tomb  at  Thebes 

without  their  knowledge.  They  speak  in  whispers, 
moderate  their  gestures,  walk  or  rather  gUde  along 
as  noiselessly  as  possible.  Occasionally  they  stoop 
to  pick  up  an  object,  or  group  themselves  round  a 
pillar,  remaining  motionless  for  a  moment,  then 
they  resume  their  silent  rounds,  cross  each  other, 
join  each  other,  and  then  separate  again.  Very 
rarely  does  some  abrupt  movement  of  one  of  them 
break  the  rhythm  of  their  evolutions,  or  do  they  let 
fall  some  brief  remark  that  sounds  like  a  trumpet 
above  their  discreet  whispers.  The  persons  em- 
ployed in  the  funeral  and  the  priests  must  have  so 
moved  and  spoken  the  evening  of  the  ceremony 
when,  the  mummy  sealed  up  in  its  sarcophagus, 
they  hastened  to  perform  the  last  rites  by 
which  the  Pharaoh  was  shut  into  his  mysterious 
chamber. 


217 


XX 

WITH    SCHWEINFURTH  ON  A  VISIT  TO   THOT 

In  the  outskirts  of  Thebes  there  are  ruins  of  which 
tourists  know  nothing.  And  yet  they  would  find 
those  ruins  attractive  if  they  were  not  in  a  district 
so  rich  in  more  celebrated  and  better  preserved 
monuments.  Those  which  Schweinfurth  dis- 
covered on  the  north  of  the  Valley  of  the  Kings 
may  be  reckoned  among  the  most  unknown.  On 
the  top  of  the  cliff  which  dominates  the  village  of 
Gamoleh  is  a  group  of  small  buildings  in  earth  and 
unhewn  stone.  Was  it  a  chapel  or  a  popular 
oracle  ?  or  a  rendezvous  for  sportsmen  ?  or  a  police 
watch-house  or  station?  The  fragments  of 
inscriptions  found  there  are  too  mutilated  to 
inform  us.  The  style  seems  to  be  that  of  the  Said 
epoch  and  to  place  them  between  the  seventh  and 
the  sixth  centuries  B.C.  However,  there  are  other 
fragments  which  will  perhaps  afford  information  if 
we  take  the  trouble  to  piece  them  together.  We 
must  have  courage,  and  as  Schweinfurth  consents 
to    act    as    guide,    attempt    the    adventure.     So 

218 


X 

%  I 

S  I 

X  =! 

^  S3 

o  2 


.-^       o 


With  Schweinfurth  on  a  Visit  to  Thot 

we  set  out  on  January  30th  ^  through  the  sand- 
banks which  separate  the  broad  arm  of  the  Nile 
from  the  western  embankment,  through  the  hamlet 
of  Eyoub-Bey,  where  the  smoke  still  rises  from  the 
morning  fires,  galloping  along  the  dike  of  the  Fadi- 
lieh  canal  side  by  side  with  a  train  of  sugar-canes, 
among  flocks  of  sheep  making  much  dust  on  their 
way  to  market,  through  the  fresh,  smiling  plain 
where  the  larks  sing  loudly,  intoxicated  with  the 
perfume  of  the  beans,  by  the  Temple  of  Gournah, 
by  the  low  sandhill  against  which  it  leans,  by  the 
shallows  of  the  ouadien,  as  if  we  were  riding 
towards  the  Valley  of  the  Kings.  But  instead  of 
taking  the  usual  road  we  bear  to  the  right  and 
reach  the  north  by  a  path  of  gravel  and  sharp 
stones.  To  the  left  are  quarries  with  the  name 
Apries  among  the  rocks,  outlines  of  ancient  hovels 
showing  dirty  grey  against  the  yellow  of  the 
desert,  trenches  dug  in  the  sand,  and  banks  of 
pebbles  left  there  by  the  waters  of  a  past  age, 
ridges  of  disintegrated  rocks,  rounded  blocks, 
holes,  indeed,  all  the  effects  of  the  work  of 
torrents.  A  first  declivity  brings  us  out  of  this 
confusion,  then  a  gently  sloping  terrace  leads  us  to 
the  foot  of  the  cliff.  We  regretfully  dismount 
and  stable  our  donkeys  in  the  shade  of  a  rock 
where  we  shall  find  them  on  our  descent. 

'  1905. 
219 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

The  path  was  made,  God  knows  in  what  distant 
epoch,  by  the  footsteps  of  the  few  faithful  who 
visited  the  god  at  long  intervals.  It  follows  a 
narrow  ridge  between  two  steep  slopes,  but  is 
neither  dangerous  nor  difficult.  Two  or  three 
times  only  it  suddenly  becomes  very  steep  for 
about  twenty  yards,  and  invites  us  to  a  sort  of 
escalade.  But  if  there  is  nothing  about  it  to  merit 
the  attention  of  an  Alpine  Club,  it  is  full  of 
interest  for  geologists.  The  surface  of  the  hill, 
through  the  erosive  action  of  the  sun,  is  exfoliated, 
laying  bare  in  places  quantities  of  fossils,  among 
others  enormous  lucinse  in  admirable  preservation 
and  cardium  of  the  species  to  which  Schweinfurth 
has  given  his  name.  Lumps  of  flint  are  together 
with  the  fossils,  and  among  them  flint  implements 
of  the  most  primitive  type,  many  of  which  are  as 
intact  as  when  they  came  from  the  factory,  while 
others  have  been  used  and  repaired  at  different  times. 
Long  before  our  Egypt  was  born,  beings  lived 
there  that  Schweinfurth  scarcely  dares  to  call  men. 
Stone  provided  them  with  exactly  what  redeemed 
them  from  the  inferiority  to  which  Nature  con- 
demned them  in  their  relation  to  the  big  animals. 
The  flint  ring  assisted  somewhat  the  weakness  of 
their  arms  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  the  enemy. 
They  tore  off"  or  split  the  skins  of  animals  with 
their  knives  and  scrapers,  that  their  nails  and  teeth 

220 


With  Schweinfurth  on  a  Visit  to  Thot 

would  never  have  been  strong  enough  to  tear. 
Their  dwelling-places  are  unknown  to  us,  and  their 
cemeteries,  if  they  had  them,  are  still  undiscovered. 
Their  flint  implements  are  found  everywhere,  and 
after  ages  of  oblivion  are  our  surest  guarantee  of 
their  existence.  Schweinfurth  told  me  this  history 
as  we  ascended,  and  I  did  not  cease  questioning 
and  hstening,  but  those  who  have  no  experience  in 
climbing  will  not  find  it  easy  to  imagine  that  it  is 
necessary  to  be  young  to  talk  science  and  to  climb 
both  at  the  same  time.  After  fifty  a  man  has  only 
breath  enough  for  one  of  those  pleasures  at  a  time, 
and  the  first  steep  bit  closes  the  most  interesting 
conversation.  After  ten  minutes  of  panting 
silence  we  are  at  the  end  of  our  journey  opposite 
the  ruins  I  propose  to  examine. 

Two  piers  of  burnt  bricks,  the  corners  broken 
off,  the  tops  cut  off,  excoriated,  corroded  by  the 
wind  of  the  desert,  stood  on  a  foundation  of 
unhewn  stones  piled  up  without  mortar  or  any 
sort  of  link ;  between  them,  where  the  door  would 
formerly  have  been,  and  a  little  to  the  back,  a 
gUmpse  was  caught  of  low,  slender  walls  on  a  heap 
of  rubbish.  The  outer  enclosure  described  a 
rectangle  of  about  20  yards  by  18  yards,  placed 
perpendicularly  at  the  extremity  of  the  plateau. 
It  has  fallen  down  in  places,  less  through  the 
action  of  men  than  through  that  of  time,   and 

221 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

what  remains  of  it  is  scarcely  more  than  9  feet 
in  height.  The  central  building,  also  of  brick,  is 
entirely  isolated.  It  is  divided  into  four  compart- 
ments, a  sort  of  vestibule  that  occupies  the  whole 
width  and  three  chambers,  or  rather  three 
contiguous  niches,  which  open  only  into  the 
vestibule.  The  plan  does  away  with  all  doubt  as  to 
the  signification  of  the  whole.  It  is  the  same  as 
that  to  be  seen  at  Deir  el-Medineh,  for  instance,  one 
common  to  most  of  the  secondary  temples  of  the 
Memphian  age.  The  god  inhabited  the  central 
niche,  and  left  the  others  to  the  two  divinities 
associated  with  him.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  a 
poor  god  without  any  pretensions  to  the  luxuries 
nor  even  to  the  ordinary  comforts  of  life.  The 
walls  of  his  house  were  whitewashed  like  those 
of  a  fellah's  dwelling,  and  neither  paintings  nor 
inscriptions  were  to  be  seen.  It  was  then  to  be 
feared  that  we  should  never  discover  who  he  was. 
However,  the  bricks  of  one  of  the  doors  had  been 
framed  with  limestone  posts,  and  the  pieces  seen 
to  be  scattered  among  the  bricks  would  perhaps 
compensate  us  for  the  silence  of  the  walls.  I  set 
the  four  men  I  had  brought  with  me  to  work 
among  the  rubbish,  and  leaving  them  under  the 
surveillance  of  the  inspector  of  Gournah,  I  set  out 
to  examine  the  plateau.  About  forty  yards 
towards    the    north-west    foundations    of    burnt 

222 


With  Schweinfurth  on  a  Visit  to  Thot 

bricks  mark  the  place  of  a  building  now  destroyed. 
The  arrangement  of  the  levellings  shows  that  it 
could  not  have  been  a  chapel,  but  a  dwelling-house 
or  a  mere  warehouse.  Two  or  three  Europeans 
would  have  felt  terribly  crowded  in  the  space,  but 
it  might  easily  have  sheltered  ten  natives.  The 
guardians  of  the  god  would  have  dwelt  there  with 
their  family,  and  an  oblong  pit  hollowed  out  near 
by  was  perhaps  the  tank  where  they  stored  the 
water  they  brought  up  from  the  plain  for  house- 
hold needs  and  for  those  of  the  religious  ceremonies. 
From  the  tank  the  plateau  slopes  to  the  west 
and  north,  at  first  gently  and  then  more  steeply. 
It  is  strewn  with  rough  flints,  among  which  may  be 
distinguished  cut  flints  of  a  kind  similar  to  those 
on  the  other  slope,  but  very  few  in  number.  It 
has  not  been  inhabited  since  the  beginnings  of 
history.  The  officiating  priests  of  the  temple  may 
have  installed  themselves  there  while  the  worship 
lasted;  now  scarcely  a  few  sportsmen  or  smugglers 
visit  it  at  rare  intervals.  The  slope,  after  hesi- 
tating for  an  instant  what  direction  to  take, 
suddenly  turns  obliquely  to  the  east,  and  soon 
runs  against  the  flank  of  the  neighbouring  cliiF. 
At  the  angle  where  they  met  there  unexpectedly 
appeared  a  corner  of  the  valley,  a  patch  of  verdure, 
a  piece  of  river  glittering  in  the  sun,  a  village,  a 
portion  of   the   Arabian    desert,    a  spur  of   hill 

223 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

outlined  in  pink  against  the  liquid  gold  of  the 
horizon.  It  looked  as  if  we  need  only  go  comfort- 
ably on  to  reach  the  plain,  but  as  I  went  forward 
Schweinfurth  caught  hold  of  my  arm.  I  was 
without  suspecting  it  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice ; 
the  ground  slipped  away  almost  under  my  feet, 
and  from  here  to  the  bottom  it  would  be  a  fall  of 
at  least  100  yards.  Two  or  three  times  a  year  a 
violent  storm  precipitates  the  cataracts  of  heaven 
upon  the  plateau.  The  water,  roUing  down  in 
raging  sheets,  leaps  into  the  empty  space.  For  an 
hour  or  two  a  foaming,  turbid  cataract  bounds 
over  the  lower  projections  of  the  hill,  gushes 
out  with  a  great  noise,  and  is  lost  in  the  moraine 
before  reaching  the  borders  of  the  cultivated 
regions.  As  soon  as  the  downpour  ceases  the 
stream  diminishes  and  is  reduced  to  a  mere 
thread  of  water,  which  soon  dries  up.  For  two  or 
three  days  a  little  dampness  remains  on  the  surface 
and  tufts  of  verdure  spring  forth  at  hazard,  but 
they  soon  wither  and  with  them  the  last  traces 
of  the  storm  are  effaced.  In  the  season  at  which  I 
visited  it  only  the  vegetation  usual  in  the  desert 
was  to  be  seen  there,  patches  thinly  sown  with 
reddish  plants  with  fibrous  stalks  and  brittle 
bearded  roots.  Agile  beetles  rush  off*  as  we 
approach.  Here  and  there  a  big  tawny  lizard, 
disturbed  by  the  sound  of  our  footsteps,  lifts  its 

22A 


With   Schweinfurth  on  a  Visit  to  Thot 

pointed  head  and  flees  as  fast  as  its  four  feet  can 
carry  it,  tearing  up  the  gravel  as  it  goes.  About 
the  middle  of  the  hillside  two  butterflies,  that  for 
no  reason  we  can  conceive  had  come  up  from  the 
plain,  fly  round  us  for  a  moment,  and  a  marauding 
crow  with  a  short,  sharp  cry  escaped  from  the 
hollow  in  which  it  had  been  concealed.  The 
silence  is  so  intense  that  we  hear  the  sound  of  its 
wings  dying  away  in  the  distance  long  after  the 
bird  has  disappeared  over  the  side  of  the  hill. 

The  excavation  did  not  produce  what  we 
expected,  but  it  was  not  altogether  unfruitful,  and 
the  inspector  spread  out  before  us  with  a  smile 
of  satisfaction  about  sixty  pieces  of  limestone 
bearing  characters  or  pictures.  The  greater  part 
seemed  to  belong  to  one  of  the  doors  and  taught 
us  nothing  of  value,  but  others  presented  some 
significant  facts.  There  must  have  been  at  least 
two  tabernacles  there,  two  naos  of  different 
dimensions,  the  doorposts  of  which  were  thus 
decorated  on  the  outer  surface.  On  one  of  the 
fragments  may  be  recognised  a  piece  of  a  king 
who  stretches  forth  his  hands  in  prayer  towards  an 
absent  divinity,  and  on  another  the  damaged 
outline  of  the  winged  disk  which  formed  the 
ornament  of  the  cornice.  Farther  on  I  copied  a 
few  words  of  an  unimportant  hymn  and  what 
remained  of  a  royal  protocol.     The  two  cartouches 

225  p 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

are  mutilated,  but  the  final  sign  of  the  second  is 
still  legible ;  it  is  that  which  ends  the  name  of 
Nechao,  the  son  of  Psammetichus  I.,  the  most 
powerful  of  the  Said  sovereigns.  The  conclu- 
sions that  I  had  drawn  from  the  few  fragments 
collected  by  Schweinfurth  seemed  to  be  confirmed, 
and  to  be  accurate.  The  temple  was  built  or  re- 
stored in  the  last  years  of  the  seventh  or  in  the  first 
years  of  the  sixth  century  b.c.,^  but  who  was  the 
god  ?  There  he  is  himself,  or  rather  there  are  the 
pieces  of  two  of  his  statues — feet,  hands,  a  thigh, 
portions  of  limbs  still  more  decisive :  he  was  Thot, 
the  master  of  magic  and  letters,  the  god  who  was 
the  scribe  and  the  magician  of  the  gods  in  the  guise 
of  a  baboon  crouching  sanctimoniously,  head  up, 
hands  on  knees.  To  judge  by  the  hands,  the 
largest  of  the  statues  cannot  have  been  more  than 
2  feet  in  height,  and  the  other  would  have  been 
a  fourth  less.  According  to  custom  they  stood  on 
a  rectangular  pedestal,  bevelled  in  front  and 
provided  with  a  staircase  which  reached  the  feet  of 

^M.  Sethe  places  the  building  of  the  temple  in  the 
Xllth  Dynasty,  and  thinks  that  the  king  was 
Amenemhait  IV.  Mr.  Petrie,  on  the  contrary,  attributes 
it  to  the  king  Sankhara  Montouhotpou  of  the  Xlth  Dynasty. 
The  resemblance  in  style  between  the  monuments  of  the 
first  Theban  epoch  and  those  of  the  Said  is  so  great  that  it 
is  easy  to  be  mistaken. 

226 


With  Schweinfurth  on  a  Visit  to  Thot 

the  idol.  Wreckage  from  the  sacred  equipment 
stood  out  among  the  rehcs,  the  lid  of  an  alabaster 
vase,  jars  of  red  and  grey  pottery,  fragments  of 
dishes  and  vessels  in  blackish  earth,  even  the  body 
of  one  of  those  hawks  in  painted  wood  which 
surmount  caskets  for  oils  and  perfumes.  The  name 
of  a  certain  Kamdsis  is  scratched  in  big  running 
hand  on  a  fragment  of  limestone  ;  it  is  the  souvenir 
of  some  pilgrim  who  came  to  consult  the  oracle. 
An  inscription  in  an  undecipherable  writing  fills  a 
corner  of  a  yellowish  block  that  lies  in  front  of 
the  door.  I  order  it  to  be  detached  and  sent  to 
Cairo;  perhaps  some  scholar  passing  through 
will  succeed  in  reading  it  and  will  inform  us  of 
the  contents. 

Possibly  by  scraping  and  turning  over  the  bricks 
we  might  discover  more  documents ;  they  would 
doubtless  add  Uttle  to  those  we  have  gathered.  The 
temple  was  too  far  from  the  beaten  track  to  attract 
many  worshippers.  It  would  only  have  been 
frequented  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring 
villages,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  had  no  resident 
clergy.  The  priests  went  up  on  the  eve  of  festivals  to 
celebrate  the  sacrifice,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  time 
it  was  left  to  the  care  of  two  or  three  sacristans. 
The  day  was  drawing  in,  the  descent  was  fatiguing 
for  a  man  who  soon  gets  out  of  breath,  the  way  is 
long,  so  I  order  the  excavations  to  stop,  and  before 

227 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

departing  pause  for  a  moment  at  the  entrance  of 
the  enclosure  to  enjoy  the  view  spread  out  before 
our  eyes.  To  the  south  extends  the  Theban  cUfF 
with  its  terraces  upheld  by  walls  of  rock,  the 
bottom  of  which  rests  in  heaps  of  rubbish.  It  is  cut 
into  capricious  valleys,  and  the  last,  that  which  is 
dominated  by  a  pyramidal  summit,  is  the  Valley  of 
the  Kings.  Two  or  three  patches  which  stand  out 
in  black  on  the  warm  paleness  of  the  whole  mark 
the  entrance  to  the  tombs.  The  line  of  dark  points 
moving  above,  almost  on  the  crest,  is  a  caravan  of 
tourists  going  to  Deir  el-Bahari.  Before  us,  as  far 
as  we  could  see,  spread  the  pale  green  fields  of 
Egypt,  its  winding  Nile,  its  villages  with  the  smoke 
of  the  evening  fires,  and  the  three  Theban  peaks,  lilac 
and  pink  in  colour,  retire  in  gradation  towards  the 
south.  Other  summits  farther  off  shine  between 
them  in  line,  one  behind  the  other.  It  is  the  usual 
landscape  with  its  charm  of  wealth  and  melancholy 
sweetness;  but  what  gives  it  to-day  a  strange 
character  is  the  Dutch  sky  which  hovers  over  it. 
Immense  white  clouds,  edged  with  black  and 
scarlet,  drag  heavily  along  and  make  strong 
shadows  on  the  ground.  A  stiff  north  breeze 
sweeps  the  slope  and  brings  us  a  vague  odour  of 
vegetation  and  warm  earth  from  below. 


XXI 

A    NEW    PHARAOH 

The  Pharaohs  are  inexhaustible:  it  is  vain  to 
register  them  by  the  dozen,  new  ones  are  always 
presenting  themselves.  When  it  concerns  the 
early  dynasties  there  is  nothing  surprising  in  this,  and 
years  will  pass  before  we  shall  possess  the  complete 
list  of  those  who  ruled  Egypt  in  its  beginnings. 
But  we  are  naturally  astonished  when  the  new- 
comer belongs  to  less  remote  epochs  ;  for  instance, 
to  those  the  history  of  which  is  to  be  read  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  writers — epochs  which  we  imagine 
to  be  sufficiently  known  to  us.  However,  here  is 
a  prince  with  a  classical  name,  a  Psammetichus, 
son  of  Neith,  who  is  resuscitated  in  the  Said 
amidst  the  ruins  of  Asfoun,  and  who  unex- 
pectedly claims  a  place  in  the  world. 

Asfoun  is  invisible  from  the  Nile,  so  well  is  it 
hidden  by  the  sugar  refinery  of  Mataanah  and  by 
the  avenues  of  lebakhs  that  adorn  the  embankment. 
The  houses  of   native    or  European   employees 
the  post-office,  the  outhouses,  the  buildings  and 

220 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

chimneys  of  the  factory,  form  a  neat  frontage  along 
the  river,  behind  which  a  Httle  Arab  village  is 
easily  concealed.  Just  at  first  it  is  merely  the 
usual  scene  of  Egyptian  Ufe — a  dozen  brick  build- 
ings, the  courtyard  walls  of  mud,  heaps  of  filth 
and  rubbish,  an  undefined  yard  where  hens  peck 
and  children  play  ;  but  beyond  that  there  suddenly 
appeared  in  a  space  of  verdure  a  piece  of  an 
almost  French  landscape,  a  little  grass,  a  bit  of 
meadow,  newly  mown  fields  covered  with  stubble, 
tufts  of  sonts  and  lebakhs  joined  by  screens  of 
thorny  shrubs,  and  flowing  beneath  their  branches 
a  full  stream,  as  on  the  borders  of  some 
French  wood.  It  flows  swiftly  on  the  left  with 
the  pleasant  sound  of  running  water,  so  rare  in 
Egypt  and  which  European  ears  so  greatly  miss. 
It  plunges  into  the  thickets,  reappears,  then 
plunges  again  into  the  shade,  and  is  always  heard 
chattering  and  babbling,  raising  its  voice  if  it 
meets  an  obstacle,  or  lowering  it  till  it  is  no 
more  than  a  slight  murmur.  It  must  not  be  too 
curiously  observed,  nor  should  we  ask  whence  it 
comes,  for  we  should  then  discover  that  its  bed 
was  of  cement  and  that  it  took  its  rise  in  the 
cylinders  of  the  steam-pump  that  pants  below. 

It  is  an  irrigating  canal  that  poses  as  a 
capricious  nymph  in  order  to  console  itself  for 
prosaically    watering    the    cultivated    lands,    but 

230 


A  New  Pharaoh 

which  is  filled  and  emptied  at  fixed  hours 
according  to  the  pleasure  of  the  engineer.  The 
impression  of  Europe  lasts  for  scarcely  a  hundred 
yards.  When  we  have  crossed  the  stream  the 
thickets  open  out,  and  the  country  resumes  its 
African  aspect.  The  road,  or  rather  the  railway 
line  that  does  duty  for  a  road,  runs  first  between 
sugar-cane  or  cotton  plantations  that  have  just 
been  cut,  then  between  patches  of  corn  where  the 
stalks  spring  up  thick  and  strong.  A  line  of 
acacias  and  tamarisks,  frequently  broken,  edges  the 
embankment  of  a  canal,  and  above  their  tops  a 
ridge  of  hills  is  visible,  black  and  yellow  against 
the  horizon. 

Asfoun  is  perhaps  the  dirtiest  village  that  I 
have  seen  in  Upper  Egypt.  It  lies  on  the  other 
side  of  the  canal,  perched  on  a  hill  of  rubbish  that 
the  sebakh  hunters  have  devastated  in  every  sense. 
An  untidy  cemetery  renders  the  approach  dismal ; 
the  tombs  are  roughly  indicated  by  a  heap  of 
stones  or  by  piles  of  broken  bricks,  and  are 
crowded  round  two  or  three  half-demolished 
koubbehs,  and  almost  touch  the  first  houses  of  the 
Hving.  We  find  dark  winding  alleys,  mud  walls, 
much  rubbed  by  the  passers-by,  one-storied  build- 
ings with  frowning  doors  and  no  outside  windows, 
infected  dung-heaps  in  every  comer,  streams  of 
liquid  manure  and  filth  in  which  our  donkeys  walk 

231 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

knee-deep.  Poverty  should  be  at  its  height  here, 
judging  solely  by  the  dirt,  but  the  population  does 
not  seem  to  be  of  the  poorest.  Turkeys,  chickens, 
and  pigeons  abound,  goats  wander  about  in  quest 
of  stray  straw,  a  few  buffaloes  ruminate  comfort- 
ably across  the  roadway,  and  a  flock  of  geese, 
disturbed  in  their  promenade  by  our  approach, 
scatter  before  us,  uttering  shrill  cries.  At  the 
noise  children  appear  from  every  corner,  but  they 
have  not  been  spoiled  by  contact  with  tourists,  and 
merely  give  us  an  astonished  glance  without 
asking  for  bakhshisch. 

The  spot  where  the  new  king  awaits  us  is  almost 
in  the  centre  of  the  village,  in  a  small,  irregular, 
slanting  square  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  hill. 
The  principal  mosque  occupies  the  south-east 
corner.  The  walls  have  been  lately  repaired 
and  preserve  nothing  of  their  primitive  decoration, 
if  indeed  they  ever  were  decorated,  but  the 
minaret  is  of  good  style,  despite  the  restorations  it 
has  undergone.  A  cyUnder  topped  by  a  polygon- 
shaped  lantern  and  its  cupola  stands  upon  a  rec- 
tangular tower  finished  off  by  a  cornice  in  the 
old  Egyptian  style.  The  whole  building  is  of 
poor  bricks,  with  transverse  wooden  beams  at 
intervals  to  bind  together  and  regulate  the 
masonry.  I  asked  an  old  man  if  there  was  any 
commemorative  inscription,   and  he  remembered 

232 


A  New  Pharaoh 

seeing  in  his  youth  a  marble  tablet  above  the  door 
covered  with  worn  Cufic  characters.  Perhaps  it 
contained  the  name  of  the  founder  and  the  date  of 
its  construction,  but  it  fell  down  during  the  last 
restorations,  and  the  man  did  not  know  where  it 
had  been  put :  he  had  something  better  to  do  than 
to  worry  himself  about  what  became  of  inscribed 
stones.  Opposite  the  minaret,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  square,  the  ruins  of  a  temple  are  scattered  over 
the  ground,  two  courses  of  masonry,  about  3  feet 
in  height,  in  dull  sandstone.  They  run  from  east 
to  west  for  about  12  feet ;  the  two  ends  are 
destroyed,  but  the  faces  of  the  existing  portions 
are  well  preserved.  There  is  to  be  seen  there  the 
bottom  of  two  pictures  placed  symmetrically  back 
to  back,  which  contain  a  king  worshipping  before 
a  seated  god,  a  goddess  standing  behind  him. 
Their  heads  are  wanting,  as  well  as  the  inscriptions 
which  surrounded  them,  but  a  line  of  hieroglyphics 
engraved  horizontally  close  to  the  bottom  tells  us 
that  the  king,  Psammetichus  Manakhpre,  son 
of  N^ith,  built  the  temple  in  good  white,  solid 
stone  for  all  eternity. 

When  we  began  our  examination,  the  square 
was  almost  deserted,  but  the  news  of  our  arrival 
spread  through  the  village,  and  we  had  scarcely 
been  at  work  ten  minutes  when  half  the 
population    came  quietly  running   up   to    watch 

233 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

our  operations.  There  were  about  two  hundred 
men  and  women  of  all  ages,  either  crouching  or 
standing  round  us  in  three  or  four  rows,  silent,  and 
attentively  observing  our  slightest  movements. 
Ideas  about  treasure  pass  through  their  heads,  and 
they  firmly  beheve  that  the  place  we  are 
excavating  is  enchanted  ground,  aid  marsoud. 
If  I  cared  to  pronounce  the  magic  words,  the 
blocks  would  change  into  ingots  of  gold,  or  the 
slabs  of  the  flooring  would  split  open  and  reveal 
heaps  of  diamonds  and  rubies.  They  would  laugh 
in  our  faces  if  we  explained  to  them  that  we  were 
taking  all  this  trouble  to  clear  up  an  historical  fact. 
The  stones,  however,  belonged  to  the  back  wall  of 
a  chapel  similar  to  those  that  the  priestesses  of 
Amon  built  at  Thebes.  If  the  side  walls  still 
exist,  we  ought  to  look  for  them  in  a  southerly 
direction  in  the  centre  of  the  square.  The  mosque 
was  probably  built  on  the  ruins  of  the  principal 
temple.  If  we  made  excavations  we  should 
doubtless  find  something  that  would  give  us 
information  about  the  founder  of  the  chapel. 
None  of  the  three  Psammetichus  of  the  XXVIth 
Dynasty  added  Manakhpre,  the  royal  prsenomen 
of  Thoutmosis  III.,  to  their  family  name.  We 
should  then  have  here  a  fourth  Psammetichus, 
perhaps  the  one  who  flourished  in  400  B.C.  and 
took  advantage  of  the  revolt  of  the  younger  Cyrus 

234 


A  New  Pharaoh 

to  make  himself  independent  of  the  Persians. 
But  many  details  in  the  technique  of  the 
sculptures  and  the  inscription  prevent  us  from 
accepting  that  interpretation.  First,  the  style  is 
not  that  of  the  Said  schools.  The  cutting  of  the 
hieroglyphics  is  awkward,  the  contour  of  the 
figures  is  stiff,  the  relief  lacks  delicacy.  A  study 
of  the  detail  shows  us  all  the  characteristics  of  the 
Ptolemaic  age  and  of  the  last  rather  than  of 
the  first  Ptolemies.  We  shall  then  have  dis- 
interred here  one  of  the  ephemeral  Pharaohs  who 
arise  in  the  Thebaid  in  troublous  times,  and  who 
attempt  to  oppose  the  rule  of  the  foreigner  with  a 
native  Dynasty. 

We  are,  of  course,  free  to  imagine  this  ;  but  the 
composition  of  the  royal  protocol  suggests  a  very 
different  hypothesis  to  me.  Our  personage  is  not 
named  Psammetichou-si-Neith — Psammetichus,  son 
of  Neith — as  I  have  hitherto  stated.  By  the  place 
he  occupies,  as  well  as  by  the  title  that  precedes 
him,  Psammatikou-si-Neith  is  a  praenomen  and 
Manakhpre  the  real  name.  Now  if  Manakhpre, 
the  praenomen  of  Thoutmosis  III.,  could  become 
the  name  of  a  high  priest  of  the  XXlst  Dynasty 
without  shocking  Egyptian  customs,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  name  Psammatikou,  a  word  of 
Libyan  origin  borne  by  several  members  of  the 
XXVIth    Dynasty,    that    fits    it    for    regularly 

236 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

serving  as  a  prsenomen.  A  Pharaoh  with  the  prse- 
nomen  Psammetichus  is  a  monster,  and  its  presence 
alone  in  inscriptions  is  enough  to  cast  suspicion  on 
them.  To  speak  the  truth,  he  never  existed,  but 
v^as  the  invention  of  an  ignorant  scribe.  When 
the  Ptolemies  restored  the  ancient  monuments 
they  often  attempted  to  set  them  up  again  as  they 
were  originally.  They  repainted  the  primitive 
pictures  in  the  name  of  the  kings  of  the  past,  and 
those  parts  of  the  Theban  temples  on  which  the 
names  of  Thoutmosis  or  of  Amenothes  III.  are 
to  be  read  really  date  from  the  second  or  third 
century  b.c.^  The  priests  who  rebuilt  the  chapel 
at  Asfoun  found  some  mention  of  a  Psammetichus 
and  a  Manakhpre,  most  probably  the  Manakhpr^ 
of  the  XXIst  Dynasty,  among  the  scenes  which 
ornamented  the  old  walls,  and  in  such  a  state  that 
both  cartouches  seemed  to  belong  to  the  same 
sovereign.  They  united  them  without  misgiving, 
and  of  the  two  personages  separated  by  time 
formed  one  single  personage  to  whom  they 
attributed  the  foundation  of  the  building.  Had 
they  been  clever  enough  to  classify  the  names 
according  to  the  usual  rules,  and  to  manufacture  a 
Manakhpre  Psammetichus  instead  of  a  Psam- 
metichus   Manakhpre,   we    should    have   had    no 

'  This  applies,  among  others,  to  the  Temple  of  Theban 
Phtah  described  in  Chapter  IV. 

236 


A  New  Pharaoh 

means  of  discovering  their  error,  and  should  have 
introduced  an  imaginary  Pharaoh  among  the 
authentic  ones.  Their  lack  of  skill  opened  our 
eyes,  and  we  are  indebted  to  them  that  we  have 
been  able  to  place  the  king  of  Asfoun  with  the 
shades  of  sovereigns  whom  the  imagination  of 
Egyptian  scribes  has  brought  out  of  the  void, 
kings  whom  the  credulity  of  the  Greek  writers 
long  maintained  in  history. 


237 


XXII 

ESNEH 

EsNEH  is  pre-eminently  the  town  of  wind,  and 
the  wind,  no  matter  from  what  quarter  it 
comes,  is  always  a  stormy  wind.  The  north 
wind  which  came  down  on  us  this  morning 
across  Asfoun  freshened  so  considerably  towards 
nine  o'clock,  that  navigation  became  almost 
impossible.  The  Nile  changed  in  a  few  moments, 
and  was  covered  with  big  waves  which  tossed  our 
vessel  in  the  most  disagreeable  fashion.  The 
dahabieh  lay  on  its  side  with  such  persistence 
that  we  sometimes  wondered  if  she  would  ever 
right  herself  again.  We  were  enveloped  in  a 
cloud  of  dust,  and  pursued  our  way  without 
knowing  where  we  were  going,  in  perpetual 
fear  of  a  colKsion.  A  sailing  vessel  laden 
with  hay  ran  against  us  obliquely  on  the  left, 
and  scarcely  had  we  got  out  of  its  way 
when  a  big  Cook's  steamer  came  up  on  the 
right.  Ten  yards  nearer  and  it  would  have 
pierced   the  middle  of   our    boat    and   sunk   us. 

238 


Esneh 

It  would  be  prudent  to  put  in,  but  the  embank- 
ment is  steep  and  full  of  pointed  stones  and 
rocks,  almost  invisible  in  this  disturbed  state 
of  the  elements.  The  captain  feared  to  be  driven 
by  the  current  during  the  manoeuvre  and  to  be 
dashed  in  pieces.  About  eleven  o'clock,  how- 
ever, the  sky  cleared  and  the  silhouette  of  a 
town  rose  vaguely  in  front  of  us.  An  outpost 
of  gardens,  an  irregular  line  of  houses,  a  slender 
minaret  that  seemed  to  bend  under  the  blast, 
a  mast  above  a  consul's  office  on  which  an 
Itahan  flag  twisted  and  flapped  in  desperation,  and 
there  was  Esneh  turning  a  surly-looking  front  and 
one  difficult  of  access  to  the  river.  The  captain, 
however,  discovered  a  sort  of  creek  near  an  old 
wall  that  seemed  to  be  safe,  and  resolutely  took 
us  into  it.  As  we  reached  it  a  last  gust  seized 
us  and  shook  us,  and  the  whole  framework 
creaked  and  seemed  to  be  torn  asunder. 

Modern  Esneh  crowns  a  hill,  in  some  places 
from  25  to  30  yards  high,  formed  of  the  debris 
of  towns  that  have  succeeded  one  another  on 
the  site  from  the  beginning  of  history.  For  a 
long  time  the  Nile  flowed  round  it  without 
touching  it,  but  about  1820  it  succeeded  in  making 
a  breach,  probably  after  an  imprudent  seizure  of 
sebakh,  and  split  it  lengthways  from  south-east  to 
north-east.     A  number  of  Mamelouk  hotels  and 

239 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

gardens    fell    into    the    water,   and    the    rest    of 
the   town   would    soon    have   been   carried   away 
if   the    Bey   who    was    ruling    at    the    time    for 
Mehemet   Ali   had   not  intervened  with   unusual 
alacrity.      Much    stone    is    needed    to    shore    up 
an    embankment    which    is    giving  way,    and   it 
would    have    cost    a    very    great    deal   had    not 
God,  who  provides  for  the  needs  of  His  faithful, 
inspired   the   pagans   with    the   idea   of   building 
immense  temples  in  sandstone  or  granite.     Every 
Pharaonic  site  possesses  some  which  form  quarries 
instituted  by  Providence  for  the  benefit  of  ad- 
ministrators.    Esneh  was   not  less  well  provided 
than    her  rivals :    she    had    three    of   reasonable 
size:  one  in  the  midst  of  her  houses  and  almost 
under  them,  then  two   at  a  short  distance    off, 
the  first  on  the  north-west  in  the  open  country, 
the  other  on  the  east,  beyond  the  river,  near  the 
village  of  Helleh.     The  temple  in  the  town  would 
have  been  preferable ;  for    could    it    have    been 
used    expenses    of   transport    would    have    been 
avoided,  but  the   Minister    of   the    Interior  had 
taken  possession   of  the   chambers   and  arranged 
them   as  chounehs,   stores  for  the  taxes  paid  in 
kind  for  the  whole  of  the  province.     The  Pacha 
would   have   been   very  angry   if  a   ruin  he  was 
using  had  been  demoUshed,  and  so  they  had  to 
be  content  with  the  temple  ruins    in   the  out- 

240 


Esnch 

skirts.  The  work  must  have  been  thoroughly 
executed,  for  to-day  the  blocks  are  no  longer  to 
be  seen  in  the  places  where  they  stood.  Two 
breakwaters  and  a  supporting  wall,  which  suc- 
cessfully resisted  the  inrush  of  the  water  for 
more  than  eighty  years,  were  built  with  the  pieces. 
A  capricious  road  winds  along  its  top :  consular 
agencies,  post  and  telegraph  offices,  a  mosque, 
a  court  of  justice,  a  mamourieh,  all  the  official 
buildings,  new  or  newly  restored,  line  the  river 
front,  and  hide  the  ordinary  town  from  foreigners. 

It  has  been  very  little  influenced  by  European 
customs.  Passing  beyond  the  frontage  described 
above,  only  houses  in  the  ancient  style  are  to 
be  seen  in  grey  brick  or  slightly  coloured  with 
white,  placed  unsymmetrically  at  the  sides  of 
malodorous  alleys,  at  once  picturesque  and  sordid, 
with  domestic  dirt  and  rags  scattered  everywhere. 
The  dye-houses  are  close  to  the  Nile  round  an 
oblong  open  space,  and  the  sickening  odour  of 
damp  indigo  proclaims  them  from  afar.  Pools 
of  blue  water  lie  about,  and  large  pieces  of  stuff 
hung  over  lines  fastened  across  the  roadway  drip 
in  the  wind  and  dust. 

After  the  dyers  come  the  butchers,  and  then 
a  large  number  of  grocers,  drapers,  braziers,  and 
goldsmiths.  The  merchants  chat  idly  together 
from  their  shops  without  thinking  of  customers, 

241  Q 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

while  at  Siout,  Keneh,  and  Louxor,  in  towns 
where  trade  is  brisk,  the  European  is  stopped  and 
disputed  for  at  every  turn.  But  here  his  questions 
are  scarcely  heeded  or  the  objects  he  wishes  to 
buy  shown  to  him.  We  arrived  on  market- 
day;  the  large  square  swarmed  with  buyers  and 
sellers,  for,  according  to  custom,  all  the  fellahs 
of  the  province  had  come  in.  It  is  a  unique 
occasion  for  us  to  make  acquaintance  with  the 
products  of  the  land.  It  is  a  very  poor  show,  a 
few  miserable  vegetables,  cabbages  run  to  seed, 
overgrown  salads,  beans,  stunted  radishes,  here 
and  there  some  sugar-canes,  a  little  wool,  a  little 
rope,  half  a  dozen  buffaloes,  some  camels,  some 
hairless  donkeys.  Two  or  three  women  have 
spread  out  some  variegated  baskets  and  trays  in 
a  corner,  things  that  the  agents  offer  Cook's 
tourists,  who  pay  very  dear  for  them.  The  shapes 
are  old,  and  the  colours  and  design  of  the 
decoration  go  back  to  the  Pharaonic  age,  but 
the  methods  of  manufacture  have  sadly  degen- 
erated with  the  course  of  time.  There  is  no 
resemblance  to  the  workmanship  and  lightness 
of  the  baskets  found  in  the  tombs,  or  to  the 
bright,  warm  tonality  of  the  Soudanese  basket- 
work.  Traffic  is  going  on  briskly  as  we  pass,  and 
bargaining  is  proceeding  all  over  the  square.  Very 
often  it  is  only  a  matter  of  one  or  two  centimes, 

242 


Esneh 

Roman  sculptors  were  much  inferior.  The 
modelling  of  the  bas-reliefs  is  uncertain,  the 
arrangement  of  the  ritual  scenes  is  that  of  an 
unskilled  practitioner  rather  than  of  an  artist, 
the  hieroglyphics  have  an  awkward  outline  and 
are  crowded  together  in  disorderly  fashion.  It 
is  the  style  of  the  Antonines  and  Severus  in  all 
its  ugliness,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  these  imperfec- 
tions of  detail,  the  whole  has  a  masterly  stamp, 
and  the  religious  impression  is  as  strong  as  in 
the  Theban  temples.  Tourists  invade  it  two  or 
three  times  a  week.  Their  conversation  or  their 
laughter  awakes  the  echoes  for  a  few  minutes,  just 
as  the  hymns  of  the  priests  did  formerly;  the 
echoes  rise  to  the  vaulted  roof,  and  then  sleep  again 
till  the  next  visit.  They  scarcely  respond  to  the 
sound  of  our  footsteps,  but  a  family  of  sparrows, 
disconcerted  by  our  visit  out  of  the  due  season, 
fly  from  the  back  wall  to  the  architrave,  chirping 
and  crying  uneasily.  A  pigeon  perched  on  one 
of  the  capitals  stretches  its  neck  and  examines 
us  curiously.  A  little  of  the  peace  of  the  old 
gods  seems  to  have  remained  in  the  hall  and  to 
surround  us. 

The  rubbish  and  earth  which  press  on  the 
walls  are  slowly  but  surely  destroying  them,  and 
would  overturn  them  if  not  soon  removed.  We 
have  taken  possession  of  some  of  the  neighbouring 

245 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

while  at  Siout,  Keneh,  and  Louxor,  in  towns 
where  trade  is  brisk,  the  European  is  stopped  and 
disputed  for  at  every  turn.  But  here  his  questions 
are  scarcely  heeded  or  the  objects  he  wishes  to 
buy  shown  to  him.  We  arrived  on  market- 
day;  the  large  square  swarmed  with  buyers  and 
sellers,  for,  according  to  custom,  all  the  fellahs 
of  the  province  had  come  in.  It  is  a  unique 
occasion  for  us  to  make  acquaintance  with  the 
products  of  the  land.  It  is  a  very  poor  show,  a 
few  miserable  vegetables,  cabbages  run  to  seed, 
overgrown  salads,  beans,  stunted  radishes,  here 
and  there  some  sugar-canes,  a  little  wool,  a  little 
rope,  half  a  dozen  buffaloes,  some  camels,  some 
hairless  donkeys.  Two  or  three  women  have 
spread  out  some  variegated  baskets  and  trays  in 
a  corner,  things  that  the  agents  oflPer  Cook's 
tourists,  who  pay  very  dear  for  them.  The  shapes 
are  old,  and  the  colours  and  design  of  the 
decoration  go  back  to  the  Pharaonic  age,  but 
the  methods  of  manufacture  have  sadly  degen- 
erated with  the  course  of  time.  There  is  no 
resemblance  to  the  workmanship  and  lightness 
of  the  baskets  found  in  the  tombs,  or  to  the 
bright,  warm  tonality  of  the  Soudanese  basket- 
work.  Traffic  is  going  on  briskly  as  we  pass,  and 
bargaining  is  proceeding  all  over  the  square.  Very 
often  it  is  only  a  matter  of  one  or  two  centimes, 

242 


Esneh 

Roman  sculptors  were  much  inferior.  The 
modelling  of  the  bas-reliefs  is  uncertain,  the 
arrangement  of  the  ritual  scenes  is  that  of  an 
unskilled  practitioner  rather  than  of  an  artist, 
the  hieroglyphics  have  an  awkward  outline  and 
are  crowded  together  in  disorderly  fashion.  It 
is  the  style  of  the  Antonines  and  Severus  in  all 
its  ugliness,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  these  imperfec- 
tions of  detail,  the  whole  has  a  masterly  stamp, 
and  the  religious  impression  is  as  strong  as  in 
the  Theban  temples.  Tourists  invade  it  two  or 
three  times  a  week.  Their  conversation  or  their 
laughter  awakes  the  echoes  for  a  few  minutes,  just 
as  the  hymns  of  the  priests  did  formerly;  the 
echoes  rise  to  the  vaulted  roof,  and  then  sleep  again 
till  the  next  visit.  They  scarcely  respond  to  the 
sound  of  our  footsteps,  but  a  family  of  sparrows, 
disconcerted  by  our  visit  out  of  the  due  season, 
fly  from  the  back  wall  to  the  architrave,  chirping 
and  crying  uneasily.  A  pigeon  perched  on  one 
of  the  capitals  stretches  its  neck  and  examines 
us  curiously.  A  little  of  the  peace  of  the  old 
gods  seems  to  have  remained  in  the  hall  and  to 
surround  us. 

The  rubbish  and  earth  which  press  on  the 
walls  are  slowly  but  surely  destroying  them,  and 
would  overturn  them  if  not  soon  removed.  We 
have  taken  possession  of  some  of  the  neighbouring 

245 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

masonry,  but  the  chief  of  them,  a  half-ruined 
okelle,  still  resists  us.  It  is  a  wakf,  and  wakfs 
require  interminable  negotiation.  We  shall, 
however,  conquer  in  the  end,  and  in  two  or  three 
years  the  pronaos  will  be  cleared.  But  how 
will  it  be  with  the  rest  of  the  temple  ?  And 
what  now  remains  of  it?  If,  turning  your  back 
on  the  visible  portions,  you  walk  westward, 
through  the  town,  you  notice  that  the  ground, 
after  preserving  the  same  level  for  a  hundred  or 
a  hundred  and  twenty  yards,  suddenly  slopes 
down,  and  descends  almost  to  the  level  of  the 
neighbouring  plain.  These  deviations  of  the 
ground  really  show  a  plan  of  the  temple  under 
the  network  of  streets.  It  is  quite  probable 
that  if  we  suppressed  the  houses  and  dug  down 
beneath  them,  we  should  soon  come  upon 
hypostyle  halls,  and  then  on  the  sanctuary, 
which,  if  not  intact,  would  at  least  be  partly 
preserved  as  at  Kom-Ombo.  It  is  a  matter  of 
money,  and  operations  could  be  carried  to 
success  without  a  very  large  amount  of  trouble 
if  it  was  done  briskly  with  sufficient  resources 
to  indemnify  all  the  landlords  at  once. 

When  finished  the  aspect  of  the  monument 
would  be  very  strange.  Imagine  a  sort  of  vast 
amphitheatre,  the  circumference  of  which  was 
adorned  by  houses,  and  in  the  middle  a  temple 

246 


Esneh 

with  its  colonnades,  its  chambers,  its  Holy  of 
Holies,  its  girdle  walls.  Perhaps  it  was  thus 
under  the  Caesars  at  the  time  when  the 
building  was  restored  or  received  its  present 
shape.  Herodotus  relates  somewhere  that  at 
Bubastis  the  sanctuary  of  the  Cat  goddess  was 
below  the  city.  The  houses  surrounding  it  over- 
hung its  terraces,  and  their  windows  looked  into 
its  courtyards.  I  Similar  necessities  doubtless  pro- 
duced similar  effects  at  Esneh.  While  the  resi- 
dence of  the  god  remained  fixed  on  the  same 
level  as  its  founders  had  placed  it,  the  dwellings 
of  men,  continually  rebuilt  on  their  ruins, 
insensibly  rose  up  round  it  and  ended  by  bury- 
ing it  up  to  the  height  of  its  cornices.  2 

^  Herodotus  II.  cxxxviii. 

^  Since  this  was  written  (January,  1907)  the  Service  des 
Antiquites  has  succeeded  in  gaining  possession  of  the  last  of 
the  houses  that  hid  the  facade.  Since  January,  1910,  the 
pronaos  has  been  completely  cleared,  and  one  of  our  best 
officials,  M.  Baraize,  is  working  hard  to  render  it  accessible  to 
the  public.  Possession  of  the  houses  built  over  the  halls 
and  the  sanctuary  will  follow  as  soon  as  we  are  able  to 
afford  the  necessary  sum  of  money. 


247 


XXIII 

EL-KAB 

The  unburnt  Egyptian  brick  is  less  perishable 
than  stone.  The  walls  of  El-Kab,  which  are 
built  of  it,  are  in  fairly  good  condition.  Its 
temples  of  sandstone  and  granite  have  fallen  to 
the  ground  and  in  places  the  foundations  them- 
selves no  longer  exist,  nor  the  artificial  bases  by 
which  they  were  supported.  When  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  neighbouring  village  want  some  hewn 
or  unhewn  stone  to  repair  their  houses,  they 
come  and  help  themselves  as  from  a  quarry,  and, 
thanks  to  the  distraction  and  complacency  of 
our  guards,  they  slyly  break  off  with  their 
hammers  as  many  blocks  as  they  need  for  the 
time  being.  They  prefer  to  attack  the  inscrip- 
tions and  bas-reliefs ;  for  why  should  the  Pharaohs 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  draw  those  mysterious 
pictures  if  not  to  indicate  to  those  who  could 
understand  them  the  spots  where  treasure  was 
hidden  under  the  protection  of  talismans  ?  They 
always   think    that    their    blows   will    break    the 

24$ 


El-Kab 

spell,  and  that  the  fragments  will  be  suddenly 
changed  mto  glittering  rain  of  gold  or  silver. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  nothing  of  the  sort  has 
ever  happened  to  any  one  of  their  acquaintance, 
and  they  themselves  have  never  found  anything 
in  the  ruins  except  broken  pottery  or  rubbish. 
But  their  faith  survives  every  disappointment. 
The  temples  go  on  crumbling  away,  and  in 
thirty  years  from  now,  despite  all  our  care,  very 
little  will  be  left  of  them.  The  principal  one 
looked  southwards,  and  the  Pharaohs  rebuilt  it 
several  times  in  the  course  of  the  centuries, 
Thoutmosis  III.  with  the  remains  of  the 
buildings  of  the  Xllth  Djmasty,  Ramses  II. 
with  the  pieces  of  the  sanctuary  of  Thoutmosis 
III.,  the  Said  sovereigns  with  pieces  of  the 
chapels  of  Ramses  II.  There,  as  at  Thebes  and 
Memphis,  and  indeed,  everywhere,  the  last- 
comers  fashioned  new  things  out  of  the  old 
material,  material  which  had  formed  monuments 
before  reaching  their  present  position.  But  the 
earlier  Egyptians,  if  they  utilised  them  again,  did 
not  damage  them.  Modern  Egyptians  derive 
nothing  from  them  except  their  limestone. 

Nekhabit,  the  goddess  of  the  place,  was  a 
vulture :  her  habitation  was  the  right  bank  of 
the  Nile,  while  Baoukou,  the  hawk,  was 
worshipped   at    Kom-el-Ahmar    on    the    opposite 

249 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

shore.  Her  sacred  lake,  on  which  sailed  the 
sacred  boat  containing  her  statue,  had  been  formed 
at  the  east  of  the  temple.  It  is  now  an  oval- 
shaped  pond,  set  deeply  between  the  embank- 
ments, and  the  water  remains  in  it  from  the 
beginning  of  August  to  the  end  of  January.  A 
few  flocks  of  sheep,  the  property  of  the  families 
living  in  the  neighbourhood,  come  down  to  drink 
and  to  bathe  as  soon  as  the  water  rises ;  when 
the  river  subsides,  the  water  quickly  evaporates  and 
becomes  so  brackish  that  the  animals  refuse  to 
drink  it.  The  town  extends  to  the  west  and 
north-west,  and  until  these  last  years  some  parts 
of  it,  especially  those  close  to  the  girdle  wall, 
had  suffered  little.  There  might  be  found  the 
houses  of  the  poor  with  their  little  courtyards 
and  their  two  or  three  tiny  rooms.  Arched 
alleys  wound  among  them,  or  rather  irregular 
zigzag  passages  like  those  of  Arab  villages  which 
twist  among  the  mud  huts  in  capricious  windings, 
and  which  three  times  out  of  four  end  abruptly 
in  a  cul-de-sac.  They  are  paved  with  fragments 
of  pottery  of  no  very  remote  date,  and  little 
research  is  needed  to  see  that  they  come  from 
the  Christian  town  which  did  not  survive  the  Arab 
invasion. 

The   Roman  town,  the  Greek  town,  the   Said 
town,    all    the    towns    that    had    followed    one 

250 


El-Kab 

another  on  the  site  from  the  beginning  of 
history,  lay  one  above  the  other  in  super- 
imposed beds  of  unequal  thickness.  Directly 
the  pickaxe  is  used,  pieces  of  varnished  faience 
come  forth,  variegated  glass,  bronze  or  copper 
vases,  blue  or  green  enamel  beads,  and  hun- 
dreds of  those  round  stones  which  our  work- 
men without  the  least  misgiving  declared  to  be 
the  bullets  of  Pharaoh's  artillery.  In  1883  two 
hours  of  digging  very  little  below  the  surface 
gave  me  the  top  of  a  stela  of  Pioupi  II.,  the 
base  of  a  nameless  royal  statue,  a  fine  scarab 
of  Thoutmosis  III.,  and  a  handful  of  brass 
coins  with  the  name  of  the  Emperor  Aurelian. 
The  harvest  would  be  less  rich  at  the  present 
time  if  I  cared  to  try  my  luck  again.  The 
peasants,  encouraged  to  industry  by  the  order 
prevailing  in  their  country,  have  more  than 
doubled  the  extent  of  the  cultivated  land, 
and  have  upset  the  site  in  order  to  obtain 
sebakh,  the  nitrous  earth  that  serves  them  in 
place  of  manure.  The  dealers  in  antiquities 
have  followed,  and  for  several  years  have  found 
the  wherewithal  ta  fill  the  shops  of  Louxor. 
The  archaeologists,  as  usual  the  last  to  arrive 
on  the  scene,  methodically  consummated  the 
destruction.  Neither  houses,  nor  streets,  nor 
open  squares  are  any  longer  to  be  distinguished, 

251 


Egypt :  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

but  only  fragments  of  shaky  walls,  heaps  of 
bricks  or  rubbish  left  on  the  edge  of  an 
excavated  hole,  a  confusion  in  which  the  bric- 
a-brac  of  all  ages  is  mingled.  Tons  of  the 
rubbish  must  be  gone  over  and  sifted  before 
discovering  even  one  of  the  delightful  objects 
earlier  so  easily  found.  Only  the  ramparts  are 
intact. 

Formerly  they  made  a  parallelogram,  the  long 
sides  of  which  measured  about  1,200  yards,  but  the 
Nile,  with  its  capricious  changes  of  direction,  has 
eaten  away  the  western  corner  and  threatens 
before  long  to  continue  its  ravages.  A  smaller 
breach  has  been  made  by  the  hand  of  man  towards 
the  north-west  corner,  probably  during  the  last 
attack.  The  fellahs  try  to  bring  their  irrigating 
trenches  through  it,  and  thus  to  gain  the  vague 
lands  of  the  interior  for  cultivation.  Except  at 
those  two  points  the  wall  preserves  a  uniform 
height  of  from  10  to  12  yards,  and  is  only  broken 
by  the  empty  space  where  the  ancient  gateways 
used  to  be,  one  on  the  north  front,  the  other  on 
the  east  front.  It  is  built  of  enormous  bricks, 
arranged  in  undulating  layers  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  the  west  and  north  faces.  On  the  east 
and  south  it  presents  an  alternation  of  panels,  the 
beds  of  which  run  horizontally,  with  other  panels 
which  are  concave  and  form  an  open  reversed  arch, 

252 


El-Kab 

the  extrados  of  which  rests  on  the  ground.  The 
reason  of  this  arrangement  is  not  clear.  Accord- 
ing to  some  it  prevented  the  slipping  of  the  whole 
structure  on  the  sand  of  the  foundations  and  of 
the  courses  of  masonry  one  on  the  other.  Others 
declare  that  in  case  of  a  siege  it  localised  and 
circumscribed  the  action  of  the  battering-ram. 
The  concussion  produced  by  repeated  shocks 
would  not  be  felt  beyond  the  panel  attacked. 
Nothing  of  this  is  proved,  but  whatever  the  reason 
that  ruled  the  Egyptian  architects,  their  work 
lasted,  and  will  continue  to  last,  for  a  long  while 
still  if  it  is  not  systematically  demolished.  The 
wall  is  cracked  from  top  to  bottom  through  the 
influence  of  the  weather  or  of  earthquakes.  It  has 
been  undermined  at  the  bottom  by  the  fellahs,  who 
have  torn  away  the  nitrous  bricks  to  crush  them 
to  manure  their  fields.  It  has  lost  its  crenelles  and 
its  banquettes,  but  the  round-way  is  on  the  average 
eleven  yards  wide  and  is  reached  by  staircases 
or  flights  of  steps  concealed  in  the  thickness  of 
the  walls. 

El-Kab  and  its  opposite  neighbour,  Kom-el- 
Ahmar,  were  frontier  towns  at  the  beginnings  of 
history,  for  Nubia  began  a  few  miles  from  them 
towards  the  south.  But  while  El-Ahmar,  far 
away  from  the  Nile,  remained  a  barrage  fortress 
good  only  to  retard  the  march  of  an  armed  body 

253 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

and  immobilise  it  for  a  few  weeks,  El-Kab  was  the 
bulwark  of  the  entire  district.  As  soon  as  the 
look-out  men  posted  on  the  rocks  of  El-Kalaa  ^ 
signalled  the  approach  of  a  barbarian  fleet,  or  the 
sentinels,  set  at  intervals  on  the  crest  of  the  chain 
of  the  Arabian  hills,  observed  any  movement 
among  the  tribes  of  the  desert,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  villages  sought  refuge  in  the  town  with  their 
flocks  and  what  property  they  could  easily  trans- 
port there.  They  encamped  within  the  walls  until 
the  crisis  was  over.  What  could  men  who  knew 
no  other  engines  of  war  than  the  scaling-ladder  or 
the  battering-ram  do  against  so  impenetrable  a 
cuirass  ?  After  two  or  three  ineffectual  attempts 
at  scaHng  the  walls,  they  usually  departed.  Time 
and  famine  could  alone  reduce  the  place. 

A  thin  line  of  vegetation  runs  beside  the  wind- 
ings of  the  river.  It  does  not  equal  the  breadth  of 
the  town,  and  its  eastern  half  is  in  the  open  desert. 
Archaic  burying-grounds  fill  the  north-east  corner, 
cemeteries  of  the  poor  whose  tombs  contain  only 

^  El-Kalaa,  the  fortress,  is  the  name  given  by  the  inhabi- 
tants to  the  ruins  of  a  fort  of  the  Byzantine  epoch,  situated 
about  a  dozen  miles  to  the  south  of  Edfou  on  a  projection  of 
Gebel  Serag.  Some  excavating  in  that  place  about  1884  led 
me  to  believe  that  the  Byzantine  fort  had  followed  a  fort  of 
the  Pharaonic  age  which  marked  the  frontier  of  the  barony 
of  El-Kab  on  the  south. 

254 


El-Kab 

rough  pottery  and  the  poorest  decoration,  neck- 
laces of  variegated  pebbles  or  of  enamelled  faience. 
The  early  aristocrats  of  El-Kab  were  poor  wretches 
who  were  buried  as  they  lived,  among  the  common 
people  and  without  more  ceremony.  They  were 
not  distinguished  from  the  vulgar  herd.  About 
the  middle  of  the  Xlllth  or  XlVth  Dynasty  some 
of  them  determined  to  emigrate  to  a  sort  of  low 
rock  that  stretches  from  east  to  west,  a  few 
hundred  yards  to  the  north-east.  It  is  a  mass  of 
worn  sandstone  through  which  veins  of  greenish 
clay,  impregnated  with  nitrates,  filter  in  every 
direction.  From  olden  times  it  was  known  to  be 
so  little  solid  that  the  venture  of  digging  the  deep 
tombs  that  were  the  fashion  in  Southern  Egypt 
could  not  be  made.  The  oldest  of  those  that  we 
know  there  is  situated  half-way  up  in  a  sort  of 
spur  that  commands  the  plain,  and  it  has  only  one 
small  chamber,  at  the  end  of  which  the  prince  en- 
graved a  stela  in  his  own  honour.  His  age  was 
not  merciful  to  him;  famine  devastated  the  pro- 
vince, but  his  wise  administration  prevented  the 
villages  that  depended  on  him  being  reduced  to 
extremities.  Other  members  of  his  family  were 
placed  under  him  or  beside  him  in  a  poorer 
fashion  still.  Their  chapel  was  a  mere  hole 
scooped  out  in  the  rock  without  paintings  or 
sculptures,  without  any  of  the  pictures  that  en- 

255 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

sured  an  honourable  after-life  to  the  soul  of  the 
master.  A  stela,  awkwardly  cut  on  a  little  stone 
plaque,  commemorated  the  name  and  the  affiliation, 
but,  badly  fixed  to  the  wall,  it  soon  became  un- 
fastened and  we  do  not  now  know  who  rested 
there.  The  successors  of  these  unknown  men 
played  a  glorious  part  in  the  wars  of  the  early 
Pharaohs  of  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty,  Kamosis  and 
Ahmosis,  against  the  Shepherd  Kings.  They  ac- 
quired notable  booty,  and  immediately  acting  like 
all  of  their  period  who  became  rich,  they  commis- 
sioned tombs  worthy  of  their  new  fortune  from 
skilful  artists.  Those  tombs  are  reached  from  the 
town  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  across  a  plain  formed 
partly  of  sandy  quartz  and  partly  of  dry  vegetable 
mould,  to  which  a  little  moisture  would  easily 
restore  its  fertility.  Sometimes  after  the  storms 
that  arise  in  the  hills  in  spring  or  autumn, 
torrents  rush  down  and  inundate  the  place  for  five 
or  six  hours.  Wherever  the  water  has  touched 
vegetation  bursts  forth.  It  blooms  for  several  days 
with  singular  vigour,  and  then  directly  the  water 
has  evaporated  dies  as  suddenly  as  it  was  born. 
The  Assouan  railway  cuts  the  track  which  joins 
the  town  to  the  tombs  almost  in  its  centre.  It 
follows  the  natural  undulations  of  the  ground  so 
closely  that  we  should  not  know  where  it  was  if 
the  line  of  telegraph  poles  did  not  indicate  the 

256 


El-Kab 

direction.  Nowhere  as  in  this  corner  of  Egypt 
does  modern  civilisation  conceal  itself  with  so 
much  modesty. 

A  slope  of  rubbish  leads  to  the  platform  of  the 
tombs.  There  are  gathered  together  the  unpre- 
tending vaults  in  which  the  servants  of  each  of  the 
princes  were  buried  under  their  master,  so  to  speak, 
in  order  to  give  him  even  in  death  a  last  proof  of 
their  fidelity,  as  well  as  to  profit  by  the  advantages 
of  the  position,  and  so  to  share  in  the  good  offices 
of  the  funeral  worship.  Two  or  three  of  the  aris- 
tocratic hypogeums  are  celebrated  among  Egypt- 
ologists for  the  documents  they  contain  on  the 
history  of  the  time,  and  among  tourists  for  the 
beauty  of  their  sculptures  and  the  brightness  of 
their  colouring.  That  of  Pahiri  has  only  one  cell, 
but  it  is  so  well  lighted  by  a  large  doorway  that  all 
the  details  of  the  decoration  can  easily  be  seen. 
The  walls  are  covered,  as  if  with  a  tapestry,  with 
tiny  figures  which  are  industriously  celebrating  the 
most  minute  rites  of  the  funeral.  By  what  miracle 
have  the  colours  been  preserved  almost  in  their 
first  state  ?  It  is  not  due  to  tourists,  pre-emi- 
nently the  destructive  race,  having  refrained  from 
spoiling  them.  They  began  in  the  Graeco-Roman 
epoch  by  cutting  their  names,  and  in  some  places 
their  inscriptions  are  so  numerous  that  they  almost 
conceal  the  ancient  drawing.     But  still  the  tones 

257  B 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

persist,  softened  and  blended  like  those  of  an  old 
tapestry,  and  their  relief  is  of  an  almost  unique 
quality  for  that  period.  Traces  of  a  provincial 
awkwardness  are  to  be  observed  in  them  which 
puts  them  below  what  is  to  be  seen  in  the  fine 
Theban  tombs ;  but  if  the  artist's  chiselling  was 
somewhat  stiff  and  betrayed  inexperience,  he  pos- 
sessed the  gift  of  life,  and  his  personages  are  to  be 
admired  for  a  naturalness  and  vivacity  of  expres- 
sion often  lacking  in  work  of  a  more  skilful 
technique. 

On  the  right-hand  wall  Pahiri  assists  at  his 
own  funeral,  and  contemplates  the  animation  of 
the  guests  while  they  eat  with  a  kindly  expres- 
sion. At  that  time  funeral  feasts  had  the  privilege 
of  throwing  those  who  attended  them  into  a 
pecuHar  state  of  mind.  At  the  beginning  a  sort 
of  jovial  sadness  prevailed,  which  the  firm  resolve 
to  celebrate  the  dead  man  worthily  soon  changed 
into  excessive  excitement  lacking  all  decorum.  The 
women  themselves  came  with  so  good  a  will  that 
we  wonder  where  the  legitimate  expression  of  their 
grief  ended.  One  of  them  says  to  the  slave  who 
is  handing  the  wine,  "  Give  me  eighteen  jars,  for 
I  want  to  get  very  drunk,"  and  she  adds  philo- 
sophically, with  a  presentiment  of  possible  conse- 
quences, "  The  place  where  we  are  is  well  provided 
with  straw,"  in  which  to  sleep  themselves  sober 

258 


El-Kab 

again.  On  the  opposite  wall,  the  left-hand  one, 
they  are  not  so  merry :  it  shows  the  transportation 
of  the  mummy,  the  arrival  of  the  human  victim, 
the  sacrifice  of  whom  was  simulated  at  the  door 
of  the  tomb,  the  dances  of  the  buffoons  in  front 
of  the  procession,  the  lamentations  of  the  weeping 
women.  Pahiri  watches  the  operations  which  are 
to  assure  him  wealth  in  the  other  world,  and 
leaving  the  city  in  a  chariot,  sets  out  for  the 
fields.  The  chariot  is  yoked  with  two  horses,  and 
those  two  horses  are  the  first  of  their  kind  that 
we  see  pictured.  The  horse  was  introduced  into 
Egypt  by  the  Shepherd  Kings,  and  was  perhaps  a 
rarity  at  El-Kab  when  Pahiri  ruled.  The  two 
brave  beasts,  tightly  reined,  gnaw  their  bits  and 
neigh  while  awaiting  their  master's  return.  He, 
meanwhile,  does  not  hurry  himself,  and  standing 
on  the  borders  of  his  fields,  sees  with  one  glance 
all  the  labour  of  the  year.  In  one  place  they  are 
ploughing  or  sowing ;  farther  off,  they  are  har- 
vesting, grinding  the  grain,  threshing  it,  carrying 
it  to  the  granaries.  It  will  eventually  be  his 
bread.  Elsewhere  the  grapes  are  being  gathered, 
pressed,  left  to  ferment,  and  the  wine  poured 
into  jars.  Hunting,  fishing,  fish  curing,  potting 
of  geese,  are  being  actively  carried  on,  as  well  as 
the  care  of  flocks,  and  boating.  There  is  such  a 
quantity  of  everything,  and  it  is  ail  so  good  in 

259 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

kind,  that  Pahiri  ought  not  to  want  for  anything 
even  to  this  day. 

The  Egyptians  possessed  a  feeling  for  nature 
which  caused  them  to  place  their  Houses  of  Eternity 
in  spots  where  a  wide  view  opened  over  the  valley. 
Pahiri,  when,  as  the  Osirian  dogma  would  exhort 
him  to  do,  he  came  out  of  his  tomb  during 
the  day,  would  see  at  one  glance  the  shining  land 
over  which  he  had  ruled.  There  was  displayed 
before  him  El-Kab  with  its  crenellated  silhouette 
whence  the  fires  lighted  at  sunset  sent  up  their  slow 
smoke  into  the  evening  sky.  The  thinly  wooded 
hills  of  Kom-el-Ahmar  bounded  his  horizon  on 
the  extreme  west,  the  Nile  flowed  between 
with  its  convoys  of  boats,  and  at  his  feet  the 
fellahs  carried  on  indefatigably  according  to  the 
season  the  labours  pictured  on  the  walls.  Few 
places  have  remained  more  Pharaonic  in  character 
than  this.  The  peasants  at  work  wear  the  linen 
drawers  and  soft,  close-fitting  cap  of  their  ancestors. 
Their  hoes  might  be  placed  in  the  museums 
alongside  of  the  ancient  ones,  and  their  swing- 
ploughs  are  a  legacy  of  the  antique  world.  In 
looking  at  them  we  feel  as  if  Pahiri's  farmers 
have  become  alive  in  their  pictures  and,  shoulder- 
ing their  implements,  urging  their  beasts,  have 
descended  on  to  the  land  to  resume  the  task  inter- 
rupted   by   thirty-five   centuries    of    sleep.      And 

260 


El-Kab 

yet,  far  away  in  the  south,  near  the  hills  that 
separate  El-Kab  from  Radesieh,  a  sound  is  heard, 
but  so  slight  that  it  is  scarcely  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  silence  into  which  it  sinks  again  at 
moments.  But  becoming  more  precise,  more  con- 
tinuous, louder,  it  bursts  into  a  noise  of  hard 
panting  and  heavy  rattling  of  metal.  It  is  the 
Assouan  express  arriving  at  full  speed.  It  cruelly 
wakes  us  from  our  ancient  dreams  and  recalls  us 
to  the  realities  of  present-day  life.  The  train  passes 
on  its  way,  its  last  carriage  is  hidden  by  the  turn 
of  the  hill,  and  its  noise  is  deadened  and  then 
killed  in  the  north,  while  its  smoke  hangs  over 
the  ramparts  and  darkens  the  crests.  In  its  turn 
the  smoke  melts  into  the  sunny  air,  and  with  its 
disappearance  the  shadow  of  the  modern  world 
that  had  traversed  and  obscured  the  site  van- 
ishes. The  fellahs,  who  had  stood  up  for  a 
moment  to  watch  the  train  pass,  bend  again  to 
the  earth  with  the  same  slow,  angular  gesture 
that  the  sculptor  has  so  accurately  noted  in  the 
chapel  of  Pahiri. 


261 


XXIV 

THE  ENGLISH  EXCAVATIONS  AT 
KOM-EL-AHMAR 

Kom-el-Ahmar — the  Red  Eminence — is  situated 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Nile,  exactly  opposite 
El-Kab,  and  to  reach  the  ruins  means  a  donkey- 
ride  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour  from  the  embank- 
ment to  the  desert.  A  well-marked  path,  a  rare 
thing  in  Egypt,  runs  from  the  bank  to  the 
neighbouring  village  of  El-Mouissat,  crosses  an 
irrigating  canal  and  plunges  among  the  houses. 
The  land  it  traverses  looks  prosperous,  small  one- 
arched  bridges  cross  the  canal  at  intervals,  and 
El-Mouissat,  if  not  wholly  clean,  makes  an  effort 
towards  cleanliness  which  is  not  without  merit  in 
this  retired  province  of  the  Said.  The  houses  are 
arranged  in  groups  of  three  or  four  along  the 
water,  each  with  its  little  garden  in  which  plants 
of  the  most  varied  species  flourish  at  hazard,  castor- 
oil  plants  and  cotton  plants,  napecas,  sonts,  doums, 
beds  of  onions  and  leeks,  square  patches  of  garlic 
and    bamiah.     An   ill-made   deep   road  circulates 

262 


English    Excavations   at    Kom-el-Ahmar 

among  the  mud  walls  or  the  hedges  and  leads  to 
an  irregular  square  where  the  market  is  held  every 
Tuesday,  between  a  stagnant  pond  and  a  mosque 
of  which  it  is  difficult  to  know  whether  it  is  in 
ruins  or  in  process  of  construction.  Twenty-four 
years  ago,  when  I  visited  the  district  for  the  first 
time,  it  was  almost  a  desert,  and  cultivation 
scarcely  extended  beyond  the  village.  It  has  more 
than  tripled  itself  since  then,  and  its  aspect  is 
scarcely  less  pleasing  than  that  of  the  plains  of 
Europe.  But  this  year  ^  the  inundation  came  late, 
and  the  spreading  of  the  manure  began  about 
three  weeks  after  the  usual  time.  The  wheat  and 
barley  are  only  just  beginning  to  spring,  the  beans, 
which  ought  to  be  ripe,  have  only  just  decided  to 
flower,  and  their  perfume,  brought  out  by  the 
heat  of  the  sun,  subtly  penetrates  everywhere, 
blended  with  the  odour  of  freshly  wetted  earth. 
The  whole  population  is  out  of  doors,  the  men  for 
watering  or  for  transporting  the  manure,  the  women 
and  girls  driving  their  buffaloes  or  goats.  Mean- 
while a  few  quails  returned  from  the  Soudan  call 
to  one  another  in  the  fresh  verdure,  crested  larks 
reply  to  them  from  the  mounds  of  earth,  pigeons 
walk  for  a  long  time  in  front  of  our  donkeys, 
and  only  fly  up  at  the  last  extremity  with  an  air 
of    reproach,   almost  of  comic  indignation.     We 

^  This  was  written  in  January,  1905. 
263 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

really  ought  not  to  disturb  them  when  we  could 
so  easily  get  out  of  their  way  !  The  birds  here 
are  not  wild  :  as  man  does  not  hunt  them,  they 
have  not  learnt  to  be  afraid  of  him,  and  live  amic- 
ably in  neighbourly  fashion  with  him, 

The  canal  is  not  entirely  dry,  and  pools  are  to  be 
seen  here  and  there,  but  vegetation  has  invaded  it, 
a  little  corn,  a  little  lucerne,  lupins,  vetch.  Two 
boats  stranded  at  the  bottom  await  the  rising  of 
the  water  in  the  midst  of  a  field  of  lentils.  Culti- 
vated land  begins  again  beyond,  but  becomes  more 
and  more  meagre  and  languishing,  and  suddenly 
ceases  at  the  exact  point  where  infiltration  and 
irrigation  no  longer  reach  it.  The  Pharaonic  town 
stood  on  the  borders  of  the  desert  about  300  yards 
from  the  canal.  The  hamlet  of  Kom-el-Ahmar 
covers  a  small  corner  of  it,  and  the  greater  part  of 
the  ancient  buildings  were  formerly  buried  under 
a  shroud  of  sand  brought  by  the  wind.  Mr.  Quibell 
cleared  out  the  ruins  of  the  temple  in  which  the 
Horus  of  the  locality  was  worshipped.  He  ex- 
tracted wonderful  things — the  gold  falcon's  head 
and  the  two  copper  statues  of  the  Pharaoh 
Pioupi  I.  which  are  in  the  Cairo  Museum — but  he 
was  obliged  to  abandon  the  site  before  he  had 
exhausted  it.  This  winter  two  other  Englishmen, 
Mr.  Garstang  and  Mr.  Jones,  undertook  to  finish  the 
task.    In  the  six  weeks  during  which  they  have  been 

264 


English   Excavations  at   Kom-el-Ahmar 

at  work  the  accumulated  rubbish  forms  a  sort  of  wall 
round  the  excavations  and  hides  them  from  view, 
so  that  we  could  approach  them  without  being 
seen.  The  workmen  did  not  suspect  our  presence 
until  we  were  in  the  midst  of  them.  We  found 
them  alone  for  the  moment  under  the  surveillance 
of  a  native  overseer,  and  the  work  suffers  from 
the  absence  of  the  European  chief.  The  men  rest 
between  each  stroke  of  the  pickaxe,  and  the 
children  squabble  round  their  baskets.  But  directly 
they  saw  us  the  scene  changed  and  all  was  activity. 
A  boy  of  eight  or  nine  years  old  intones  a  topical 
verse,  his  comrades  forming  a  chorus — '' Ennahar-de, 
fi  safiyeh  "  (To-day  there  is  good  cheer) — and  the 
pickaxes  hurry  on,  the  baskets  are  filled  and 
emptied,  the  pit  grows  bigger,  the  overseer  runs  to 
the  head  of  his  troop  ready  to  seize  the  first  object 
that  shall  come  forth,  and  all  to  the  quick  rhythm  of 
the  song.  It  is  almost  waste  of  trouble,  on  this 
side  at  least,  and  Mr.  Jones  has  not  much  to  hope 
for.  Mr.  Quibell  has  only  left  him  rubbish,  pieces 
of  stelag  and  of  bas-reliefs,  fragments  of  statues, 
common  amulets,  lost  among  millions  of  potsherds, 
all  the  broken  pottery  amassed  by  a  hundred  suc- 
cessive generations  of  careless  housekeepers.  But 
he  goes  on  conscientiously,  making  his  way  from 
house   to   house,  in   no   way  discouraged   by   the 

poverty  of  his  booty.     At  rare  intervals  a  curious 

265 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

object  rewards  his  perseverance.  The  day  before 
yesterday  he  found  a  tiny  man's  head  in  lapis- 
lazuU  under  a  heap  of  rubbish  in  the  angle  of  two 
walls.  The  modelling  is  delicate  and  the  expression 
of  great  charm,  but  what  gives  it  extraordinary 
value  is  that  it  fits  a  statuette  of  the  same  material 
that  Mr.  Quibell  found  not  far  from  there  seven 
years  ago,  and  which  is  in  the  Oxford  Museum. 
The  town  was  never  very  important.  It 
possessed  a  temple  of  medium  size  and  without 
architectural  pretensions,  two  or  three  State  ware- 
houses in  heavy  masonry,  a  few  thousand  inhabi- 
tants crowded  into  clay  huts  like  those  with  which 
the  Egyptians  are  still  contented,  but  little  trade, 
no  industries,  and  for  food  the  narrow  tongue  of 
land  that  the  people  of  El-Mouissat  are  struggling 
to  reclaim.  And  yet,  situated  as  it  was  on  the 
oldest  frontier  of  the  country,  its  position  gave  it 
importance  in  primitive  times,  and  its  princes 
played  a  great  part  under  the  Thinite  Pharaohs 
or  their  predecessors.  AlUed  with  the  rulers  of 
El-Kab  and  Edfou,  they  defended  the  borders  of 
the  South  against  the  tribes  of  the  Soudan,  and 
more  than  one  Nubian  or  Berber  invasion  came 
to  nothing  under  the  walls  of  their  fortress.  The 
fortress  has  not  perished  and  stands  almost  intact 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  town.  It  was  not, 
as  at  El-Kab  opposite,  an  immense  intrenchment 

266 


English   Excavations  at    Kom-el-Ahmar 

in  which  the  whole  population  of  the  district  with 
its  cattle  and  provisions  could  take  refuge  at  the 
least  sign  of  a  rising.     It  was  a  fortress  of  restricted 
proportions,   a    rectangular   enclosure   of  unburnt 
bricks,    formed   by   two   walls.       The   outer  wall 
made    a    sort    of    crenellated    revetment    which 
was    originally    four    or    five    yards    high.      The 
rampart  properly  so  called  measured  from  six  to 
seven  yards  at  the  base,  but  mounted,  gradually 
diminishing  in  width  to   the  height  of  eleven  or 
twelve  yards,  measuring  at  the  top  only  five  yards. 
It  is  smooth,  without  embrasures  or  loopholes  but 
crenellated  with  rounded  battlements,  and  deco- 
rated on  the   outside  with  long  prismatic  stripes. 
The  bricks  were  covered  wdth   whitewash   edged 
with   red   marks.      The  gate   was   placed   in   the 
south-east  corner,  in  the  centre  of  a  compact  mass 
of  masonry  which  projected  sharply  in  the  front  of 
the  fortification.     A  narrow  opening,  barred  with 
a  two-winged  door  of  solid  wood,  closed  it  on  the 
outer  side  ;  a  httle  coiu-tyard  placed  in  the  thickness 
came  beyond,  and  at  the  end  on  the  left  a  second 
door,  as   narrow   as  the  first,  gave  access   to  the 
interior.      It    was    occupied   by    dwelling-houses, 
barracks,  stores  for  food  and  ammunition,  and  in 
time  of  peace  the  prince  held  his  court  there.     At 
the  first  sign  of  war,  if  he  had  not  men  enough  to 
go  out  against  the  enemy,  he  shut  himself  up  in  it 

267 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

with  his  troops  and  made  a  long  resistance.  A 
breach  in  the  south  front  seems  to  prove  that  the 
fortress  was  carried  by  assault  in  the  last  siege  it 
underwent,  but  it  was  seldom  that  so  well-fortified 
a  place  succumbed  to  a  direct  attack.  As  at 
El-Kab,  the  enemy  usually  waited  in  patience  until 
hunger  or  thirst  overcame  resistance.^ 

The  ground  is  broken  up  round  about,  and  heaps 
of  bricks  and  pulverulent  human  bones  mark  the 
places  which  Mr.  Quibell  excavated.  The  oldest 
cemeteries  were  placed  at  intervals  on  the  sandy 
plain,  at  the  north  and  west,  but  tombs  of 
recent  epochs  are  mingled  with  the  primitive 
sepulchres,  and  modern  hands  have  so  effectually 
upset  everything,  that  it  is  often  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish one  from  the  other.  The  equipment  is 
very  poor,  coarse  pottery,  mats,  rotten  stuffs,  neck- 
laces and  bracelets  of  pebbles  or  variegated  glass, 
here  and  there  jewels  in  precious  metals,  or  amulets. 
The  people  were  as  poor  in  death  as  in  life.  The 
princes  and  their  families  must  have  been  more 
richly  buried  somewhere  in  the  hill,  but  most  of 
their  tombs  are  unknown  to  us.  About  a  mile  or  two 
from  the  fortress,  however,  half-way  down  the  hill- 
side, entrances  to  hypogeums  are  to  be  seen,  those 
which  M.  Bouriant  and  I  studied  nearly  thirty  years 
ago.  They  are  miserable  tombs,  hastily  hewn  out, 
»  Of.  Chapter  XXIII. 
268 


English    Excavations   at   Kom-el-Ahmar 

and  almost  without  decoration.  Rare  inscriptions 
tell  us  that  they  sheltered  the  mummies  of  princes 
and  high  priests  contemporary  with  the  first 
Thoutmosis,  but  one  of  them,  in  better  condition 
than  the  others,  was  appropriated  and  repainted 
under  Ramses  XII.  Mr.  Jones  set  up  his  camp  there. 
He  stored  his  provisions  in  one,  slept  in  another, 
made  a  kitchen  on  the  platform  opposite  the  third, 
which  served  as  a  dining-room,  and  stored  the 
objects  that  he  obtained  in  the  course  of  his 
3xcavations  in  a  fourth.  A  large  ouady  opened 
out  at  his  feet  and  offered  him  wide  views  over 
the  desert  to  the  south.  Before  him  the  whole 
valley  was  displayed,  shining  as  if  with  gold,  and 
bordered  with  yellowish  sand.  He  saw  the  old 
fortress  grey  in  the  midday  sun,  the  eminence  of 
Kom-el-Ahmar  whence  rose  the  dust  of  the 
excavations,  the  green  of  the  trees  and  the  grain,  the 
reflections  in  the  Nile,  and  bounding  the  horizon 
the  hills  of  El-Kab,  with  their  barren  tops,  their 
slopes  down  which  the  light  seems  to  flow  as  in  a 
slow  stream,  and  the  bluish  shadows  in  the  hollows. 


269 


XXV 

EDFO  U 

If  I  was  asked  which  among  the  towns  of  modern 
Egypt  had  best  preserved  the  physiognomy  and 
internal  arrangements  of  an  ancient  city,  I  should 
reply  without  hesitation,  Edfou.  It  is  heralded 
in  the  distance  by  its  temple,  and  the  traveller 
proceeding  up  the  Nile  in  his  dahabieh  sees  the 
two  towers  long  before  reaching  it,  as  did  the 
pilgrim  of  old  when  devoutly  wending  his  way  there 
to  worship  the  falcon  of  Horus.  An  hour  after 
leaving  El-Kab  the  towers  may  be  faintly  descried 
above  the  trees,  then  almost  immediately  they  are 
again  hidden  by  the  trees,  to  reappear  after  a  few 
minutes  a  little  higher.  At  each  turn,  when  we 
catch  a  fresh  glimpse  of  them,  they  seem  to  join  to 
them  a  little  more  of  their  surroundings,  the  minaret 
of  one  of  the  mosques,  square  pigeon-houses,  two  or 
three  panels  of  whitewashed  walls,  an  irregular  group 
of  yellow  and  grey  houses,  an  embankment  cut 
almost  straight  in  the  black  alluvium,  two  or  three 
boats,  a  sakieh  which  sends  its  grating  music  out 

270 


<fHKmU!>V!      .'"i        -,•','*'*«'{' 


EDFOU.      ENTRANCE  TO  THE   MAIN  TEMPLE. 


To  face  p.  270. 


Edfou 

into  the  breeze  night  and  day,  a  belt  of  green  corn 
and  vegetation,  a  noisy  suburb  sprung  up  out  of 
the  ground  twenty  years  ago,  a  canal,  a  bridge  of 
bricks  and  wood,  and  at  last  the  village  properly  so 
called  with  its  low  huts  and  almost  deserted  alleys. 
Dogs,  too  lazy  to  bark  at  strangers,  sleep  languidly 
in  the  shade.  We  meet  two  or  three  women 
shapeless  in  their  long  veils.  A  door  is  noisily 
opened  behind  us,  and  the  muffled  sound  of  conver- 
sation is  heard  behind  the  walls.  Two  towers  to 
the  right,  one  tower  to  the  left,  a  kouttab  humming 
with  the  sound  of  reading  aloud,  a  sudden  bend, 
and  there  before  us,  above  us,  all  around  us, 
stands  the  huge  temple.  It  was  formerly  buried 
at  the  bottom  of  a  pit,  where  Mariette,  having 
cleared  it  out,  suddenly  left  it.  The  Service  des 
Antiquites  has  just  spent  eight  years  in  disengag- 
ing it  more  completely. 

In  order  to  do  that,  about  forty  houses  had 
to  be  bought  and  pulled  down,  and  in  some 
places  twenty  or  thirty  yards  of  debris  had  to 
be  cleared  away,  and  the  task  is  not  yet  finished. 
But  the  court  is  freed  and  the  site  of  the  sacred 
lake,  and  a  little  in  front  of  the  pylon,  on  the  left, 
a  scarcely  perceptible  chapel,  that  to  which 
the  goddess  of  Edfou  retreated  in  the  spring  in 
order  to  give  birth  to  the  Divine  Son  of  the  local 
triad.     The  monumental  doorway  by  which  the 

271 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

pilgrims  entered  the  temenos  was  freed  from 
rubbish  three  years  ago ;  ^  and  although  the  ex- 
cavations have  not  been  pushed  far  enough  on 
that  side,  they  enable  tourists  to  stand  sufficiently 
far  back  to  view  the  facade  in  all  its  extent.  The 
striking  and  barbarous  ornamentation  with  which 
the  architects  formerly  adorned  it  can  now  be  seen, 
the  four  gigantic  masts  from  which  variegated 
banners  floated  in  the  breeze,  the  veneering  of  raw 
colours  which  set  off  the  triumphal  bas-reliefs  of 
the  Ptolemaic  kings,  the  shining  gilded  wings 
of  its  colossal  door.  The  masts  have  been 
burnt,  the  cornices  have  fallen  down,  the  rain 
has  washed  out  the  colours,  and  the  noonday 
sun,  striking  the  grey  surface,  seems  to  devour 
the  sculptures ;  the  outline  of  the  figures  can 
scarcely  be  distinguished  by  the  thin  line  of 
shade  that  runs  along  their  contours.  The  im- 
pression of  assured  strength,  which  formerly 
gained  much  of  its  vivacity  from  the  violent 
colouring  and  rich  decoration,  results  now  solely 
from  the  immensity  of  the  proportions,  and  is  not, 
perhaps,  less  powerful  for  that.  Nowhere  in 
Egypt,  not  even  at  Karnak,  is  what  the  Pharaohs 
meant,  when  they  boasted  of  having  founded 
everlasting  stone  monuments  in  honour  of  the  gods, 
better  to  be  understood.  We  cannot  imagine  that 
*  This  was  written  in  January,  1906. 
272 


Edfou 

buildings  set  up  in  so  masterly  a  fashion  could 
succumb  to  anything  but  a  sustained  effort  of 
human  perversity.  And  yet,  if  we  examine  them 
closely,  we  shall  soon  recognise  that  in  many  places 
they  are  at  the  end  of  their  resistance,  and  several 
parts  of  them  threaten  to  succumb  from  the  weak- 
ness of  old  age.  Air  and  sun  have  injured  some 
of  the  blocks  to  a  point  that  we  can  hollow  them 
out  with  the  finger ;  elsewhere  the  pressure  of  the 
earth  or  of  rubbish  has  bent  the  walls  in  the  centre, 
and  the  movement  thus  caused  in  the  masonry  did 
not  cease  until  the  rubbish  was  cleared  away.  Six 
years  ago  the  western  wall  of  the  enclosure  was  in 
so  bad  a  condition  that  I  feared  a  speedy  fall.  It 
had  to  be  cut  down  for  a  length  of  about  ninety  yards, 
the  foundations  had  to  be  strengthened,  the  blocks 
put  up  again  and  adjusted  with  minute  exactitude, 
so  as  to  restore  accurately  the  mythological  and 
religious  scenes  which  sanctified  the  two  sides. 
M.  Barsanti,  to  whom  the  work  was  entrusted, 
accomplished  it  with  his  accustomed  skill  and 
audacity.  But  when  he  had  finished  he  saw  that 
the  western  portico  was  in  as  great  danger  as  the 
wall  had  been.  I  sent  him  back  in  1905,  with 
the  order  to  put  everything  right  by  the  same 
methods  that  had  formerly  been  so  successful. 

He    was    again    equally   successful    and    rapid. 
The  walls,  columns,  ceiUngs  of  the  portico  were 

273  8 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

put  in  a  condition  of  perfect  stability.  In  a 
few  weeks  the  scaffoldings  will  be  removed  and 
the  building  will  have  resumed  its  ordinary  aspect. 
The  works  are  carried  on  with  a  discreet  activity, 
without  useless  display  of  strength,  without  insults 
from  the  overseers  or  hostile  grumbling  from  the 
workmen,  and  the  few  tourists  who  watch  the 
operations  would  never  suspect  how  dangerous 
they  often  are.  The  entire  portico  had  deviated 
from  west  to  east,  and  eleven  of  its  columns  were 
only  held  in  position  by  the  architraves  which 
joined  them,  and  by  the  ceiling,  the  slabs  of  which 
weighed  on  them.  No  attempt  could  be  made  to 
set  them  straight  before  shoring  up  the  whole  mass, 
and  the  least  awkwardness  committed  during  the 
preUminary  operation  risked  the  fall  of  the  whole 
on  the  workmen.  M.  Barsanti  propped  up  the 
ceiling,  timbered  the  wall,  equipped  and  buttressed 
the  columns  with  immense  pitch-pine  beams. 
Directly  the  safety  of  the  whole  was  assured,  he 
took  down  the  blocks  that  formed  the  cornices, 
then  applying  screwjacks  to  the  ceiling  he  lifted 
the  slabs  a  foot  above  the  top  of  the  walls  and 
fixed  them  in  the  air  for  ten  months  on  frames  of 
timber-work. 

Next  he  attacked  the  architraves,  but  instead  of 
taking  them  down,  a  proceeding  that  would  have 
required  double  the  time  and  expense,  he  placed 

274 


Edfou 

them  on  cradles  of  beams  prepared  on  their  east 
side.  He  was  on  the  point  of  ordering  the 
columns  to  be  pulled  down,  when  an  incident 
happened  which  nearly  prevented  success.  The 
master  mason  and  his  assistants  were  terrified  by 
so  many  stones  suspended  above  their  heads,  and 
declared  that  unless  they  were  brought  down 
to  the  ground  they  would  leave  the  spot. 
M.  Barsanti  installed  himself  beside  them  under 
the  mass  to  prove  the  needlessness  of  their  fears. 
Seeing  him  so  resolute,  their  confidence  was 
somewhat  restored,  but  the  first  few  hours  were 
very  uncomfortable.  If  a  piece  of  wood  creaked, 
or  a  rope  vibrated  as  it  was  tightened,  the  men 
fled  in  every  direction,  and  it  was  not  an  easy 
matter  to  gather  them  together  again.  Never- 
theless the  corner  column  was  taken  to  pieces  and 
stored  away  without  accident  in  a  day  of  ten 
hours.  The  second  column  only  took  eight  hours, 
and  the  workmen  becoming  hardened,  the 
business  was  finished  sooner  than  we  could  have 
hoped.  In  less  than  two  months  the  eleven 
leaning  columns  were  taken  down  and  set  up 
again  in  the  perpendicular,  the  architraves  re- 
turned to  the  places  they  had  left,  the  ceiling 
descended  on  to  the  architraves,  and  the  portico 
was  more  robust  than  it  had  been  for  thirty  years 
before  its  misadventure.     In   the   course  of   the 

275 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

manipulations  nothing  suffered,  neither  inscrip- 
tions nor  pictures,  and  when  the  apparatus  was 
removed  no  trace  of  the  work  that  had  been 
accomphshed  would  have  remained  if  we  had  not 
been  obliged  to  fill  up  the  points  of  the  courses 
of  masonry  with  cement,  the  dull  colour  of  which 
will  contrast  for  a  few  months  with  the  warmer 
tonality  of  the  antique  stone.  The  Pharaohs 
would  have  been  immensely  proud  of  so  well 
executed  an  enterprise ;  they  would  have 
recorded  it  in  big  hieroglyphics  on  a  stela  with 
much  emphasis  and  prolixity,  extravagant  in 
praise  of  themselves  and  prayers  to  the  gods. 
Such  panegyrics  on  stone  are  out  of  fashion. 
M.  Alexandre  Barsanti  will  think  himself  fortunate 
if  the  four  years  of  hard  work  and  anxiety  which 
Edfou  cost  him  obtain  a  couple  of  lines  in  the 
next  edition  of  some  tourists'  Guide  to  Egypt. 

At  off  times  he  had  worked  at  the  slight  re- 
touchings in  the  interior  rendered  necessary  by  its 
condition.  The  good  folk  of  the  village  had  not 
inhabited  the  halls  for  fourteen  centuries  with 
their  poultry  and  their  cattle  without  doing  some 
damage.  In  one  place  they  had  hammered  the 
portraits  of  the  pagan  divinities  which  decorated 
the  walls,  in  order  to  kill  the  demons  that 
animated  them.  Elsewhere  their  wives  had 
scraped  or  scooped  out  the  stone  in  order  to  obtain 

276 


Edfou 

a  sandstone  powder  which,  mixed  with  their  food, 
would  cure  their  diseases  or  procure  for  them  a 
blessed  fertility.  The  ceilings  of  several  chambers 
no  longer  exist,  and  one  January  morning  only 
five  years  ago  pieces  of  the  ceiling  of  the 
hypostyle  hall  fell  down.'  Two  hours  earlier  or 
later,  they  would  have  fallen  on  a  band  of  tourists, 
and  many  of  them  would  have  been  crushed. 
The  breach  is  now  closed  up,  the  cracks  have  been 
stopped  with  mortar,  the  pictures  are  clear,  and 
the  hieroglyphics  stand  out  with  such  sharply 
defined  contours  that  colour  alone  is  wanting 
to  make  the  restoration  perfect.  It  would 
involve  too  great  a  risk  to  attempt  to  restore 
the  colour  notwithstanding  the  many  traces  of 
it  that  still  persist,  but  I  often  ask  myself  if  we 
ought  not  to  restore  the  door-frames  and  the 
objects  used  in  religious  worship  in  one  of  the 
chambers.  It  would  be  easy  to  make  the  doors  in 
Syrian  or  Caramanian  wood  with  bronze  hinges 
and  touches  of  gilding.  The  sockets  still  exist  at 
the  foot  of  the  jambs  and  lintels,  and  would  give 
us  the  correct  dimensions  of  the  pivots  on  which 
the  wings  of  the  doors  turned.  The  delicately 
chiselled  pictures  on  the  walls  of  the  sanctuary 
show  us  the  principal  objects  that  it  contained 
and  the  way  in  which  they  were  arranged.  First 
^  Cf.  Chapter  XIII. 
277 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

there  was  the  large  granite  naos,  consecrated  by 
Nectanebo  before  the  building  of  the  actual 
edifice,  and  in  which  was  enclosed  the  image  of  the 
god,  a  gigantic  falcon  in  gilded  wood.  Then  in 
front  of  the  naos  on  a  block  of  stone  came  the 
sacred  boat  that  was  carried  in  procession  through 
the  streets  and  fields  on  festival  days.  It  is 
represented  in  its  natural  size,  with  its  litter,  its 
figures  on  poop  and  prow,  its  tabernacle  half  veiled 
with  some  white  stuff,  its  oar-rudders,  and  on  each 
side,  to  the  right  and  left,  the  altars,  the  ledges 
laden  with  bread  and  cakes,  the  libation  vases,  the 
mats,  the  dishes  of  offerings.  A  skilful  joiner 
could  soon  have  faithfully  copied  the  furniture, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  the  half-light  that 
prevails  in  such  places,  visitors  suddenly  con- 
jfronted  with  the  mystic  apparatus  would  have  a 
momentary  vision  of  the  past. 

They  could  even,  if  they  so  desired,  procure  it 
now  by  standing  on  one  of  the  towers  of  the  pylon 
at  sunset.  The  staircase  winds  through  the  mass  so 
gently,  that  the  240  steps  are  climbed  almost  without 
fatigue.  Narrow  air-holes  cut  in  the  south  wall 
let  in  a  scanty  amount  of  light,  and  a  side  door 
open  on  each  of  the  landings  leads  to  the  priests' 
chambers.  Two  or  three  of  them  served  as  guard- 
rooms for  the  little  French  garrison  which  held  the 
country    during  Napoleon's  expedition.     At    the 

278 


'  m 

'm 

i 

^ 

..ir-dlk 

Edfou 

beginning  there  were  about  150  men,  infantry  and 
cavalry,  but  sickness  and  perpetual  skirmishing 
with  native  marauders  gradually  reduced  the 
number.  At  each  fresh  funeral  the  survivors 
engraved  the  name  of  their  dead  comrade  in  a 
corner,  adding  the  date  and  a  cross,  and  then 
resumed  their  daily  avocations.  The  hours  passed 
slowly  in  this  far-away  village,  and  if  the  older 
soldiers  had  some  pleasure  in  proclaiming  that  the 
French  are  conquerors  everywhere,  others  thought 
regretfully,  one  of  his  far-off  Rosalie,  another  of 
the  windmill  in  his  native  village,  which  he  drew 
with  the  point  of  his  knife  on  a  block  of  stone, 
with  its  pointed  roof  and  all  its  sails  unfurled. 

The  platform  which  crowns  the  eastern  tower  no 
longer  exists,  but  the  masonry  on  which  the  slabs 
rested  projects  in  the  interior  along  the  parapet  like 
a  roundway,  and  thence  there  is  a  view  over  the 
country.  It  is  the  usual  Egyptian  landscape,  but 
more  meagre  than  in  the  environs  of  Esneh  and  Kom- 
el-Ahmar.  We  see  two  chains  of  low,  jagged,  black 
hills  striped  with  yellow  where  the  sand  flows 
down,  a  muddy  and  almost  deserted  Nile,  rows  of 
trees  twisted  by  the  wind,  patches  of  vegetation 
standing  out  in  strong  contrast  with  the  grey 
colour  of  the  plain.  The  sun  sets  quietly, 
throwing  the  ever  lengthening  shadow  of  the 
temple  over  the  town.     The  fires  for  cooking  the 

279 


Egypt :  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

evening  meal  are  lighted,  and,  as  in  the  melancholy 
lines  of  Virgil,  the  roofs  of  the  houses  smoke. 
The  falcons  hover  round  us,  describing  large 
circles  before  regaining  their  eyries,  and  mingled 
with  their  cries  uncertain  sounds  of  voices  float 
up  now  and  again  to  the  tower  top.  The  women 
call  to  one  another  from  the  terraces,  the  men, 
seated  or  standing  on  the  threshold  of  their  doors, 
engage  in  serious  conversation  across  the  street, 
and  pointing  to  us,  seem  uneasy  about  what  we 
are  doing  up  there  at  so  late  an  hour.  Is  it  really 
Edfou  of  to-day  that  is  sinking  to  rest  before  our 
eyes  ?  The  few  signs  of  modern  life,  the  minaret 
of  the  mosque,  the  telegraph  poles,  the  iron  pipes 
of  the  steam-pump,  are  effaced  in  the  soft  light 
of  the  dying  day.  Modernity  is  concealed  in  the 
uncertain  pallor  of  twilight,  and  the  call  of  the 
muezzin  sounds  in  our  ears  like  a  feeble  echo  of 
the  chants  with  which  the  priests  of  Horus 
greeted  the  daily  death  of  their  god. 


280 


XXVI 

ASSOUAN 

The  north  wind  strikes  sharply  in  our  faces,  grey- 
clouds  chase  each  other  across  the  sky,  the  sun 
shines  yet  without  warmth,  one  of  those  dry,  clear 
suns  that  are  frequent  in  France  in  the  month  of 
March,  days  when  spring,  not  yet  sure  of  itself, 
makes  an  attempt  to  come  forth,  and  yet,  in  spite 
of  the  wind  and  the  cold,  we  are  on  the  very  fron- 
tiers of  Upper  Egypt.  To  right  and  left  are  the 
worn  sandstone  hills  and  golden  sands  which 
herald  Nubia.  Here  are  groups  of  date-palms  and 
doum-palms,  of  acacias  and  tamarisks,  which  form 
a  thin  screen  behind  the  blackish  banks  ;  here  are 
dusty  patches  of  castor-oil  plants  and  clover,  huts 
of  twigs  and  mud,  chadoufs,  sakiehs :  and  then  in 
the  background  the  stained  cupola  of  the  tomb  of 
the  saint  who  presides  over  Assouan.  The  town  is 
suddenly  revealed  at  the  turn  of  a  last  wooded  pro- 
montory between  the  shore  of  El-Q6z  and  the 
southern  point  of  Elephantine  ;  there  are  the  villas 
half-hidden    in   trees,   barracks,    church,   gardens, 

281 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

then  a  straight  front  of  white  houses,  above  which 
the  heap  of  old  buildings  of  the  colour  of  the 
ground  rises  pyramidally.  A  large  sandbank  has 
lately  risen  across  the  channel  and  does  not  permit 
access  to  all.  Light  boats  can  go  up  without 
much  trouble,  at  least  in  winter-time,  and  pushing 
straight  between  islets  of  brown  granite  round 
which  the  water  foams,  make  land  at  last  beyond 
the  broken  piles  of  a  Roman  jetty.  The  others 
pass  to  the  west,  and  double  Elephantine  to  reach 
the  port  of  the  southern  side,  as  if  they  were 
coming  from  the  Cataract. 

Where  is  the  Assouan  of  twenty  years  ago,i 
the  half-Nubian  village,  its  originality  as  yet  un- 
spoilt by  a  European  admixture?  No  railway 
disgorged  every  evening  carriage-loads  of  dusty 
tourists  ;  four  or  five  dahabiehs  at  most  rode  at 
anchor  far  apart  in  the  height  of  the  season.  The 
post-boat  brought  up  a  few  dozen  tourists 
in  the  week,  and  twice  a  month  Cook's  parties 
arrived  in  a  big  steamer.  Then  for  two  or  three 
days  there  was  going  and  coming  of  small  boats 
between  Elephantine  and  the  mainland,  donkeys 
galloping  along  the  road  to  Philse,  warlike  reviews 
of  Barabras  at  ten  francs  a  dance,  ballets  of  almehs, 
endless  bargainings  for  Nubian  swords  and 
weapons,    ostrich    feathers,  raw  ivory,  Soudanese 

'   This  was  written  in  1902. 
282 


Assouan 

stuffs,  or  jewellery.  One  fine  morning  the  whistle 
announced  departure,  and  amid  a  sound  of  paddle- 
wheels  civilised  man  set  out  for  the  north  as 
noisily  as  he  had  come.  The  town,  delighted  with 
its  gains,  but  tired  of  the  confusion,  uttered  a 
sigh  of  relief  and  lazily  sank  to  sleep  again  to  the 
lullabies  of  the  sakiehs. 

But  now  from  the  middle  of  December  to  the 
middle  of  March  Assouan  never  sleeps.  It  has 
become  a  winter  resort,  like  Nice  or  Sorrento,  and 
has  had  to  transform  itself  to  satisfy  the  demands 
of  its  passing  visitors.  The  embankment,  formerly 
so  picturesque,  though  rough  and  dirty,  has  been 
replaced  by  a  regular  quay,  with  decorations  in 
brick,  adorned  with  palms  already  high  and  with 
lebakhs  which  will  grow  if  Heaven  pleases.  The 
whole  front  is  almost  European  in  appearance, 
with  its  banks,  post-office,  hospital,  fountain, 
chapel,  cafes,  hotels,  taverns,  shops  with  glass 
windows  and  covered  with  advertisements.  A 
Dalmatian  photographer  invites  you  in  composite 
French  not  to  buy  your  films  anywhere  except  at 
his  shop.  His  neighbour,  a  Greek  tobacconist, 
offers  you  the  best  to  be  had  in  cigarettes  and  silks, 
all  English,  but  if  you  need  eau  de  Cologne  you 
must  go  on  farther  to  the  Italian  bookseller,  who 
will  supply  you.  As  you  pass  obliging  Parsees  cry 
their  cloths,   printed   in  loud   colours,  and  their 

283 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

coarse  Indian  silver-work.  At  the  southern  end 
two  or  three  cabs  of  the  most  correct  pattern 
await  custom  with  resignation,  at  the  head  of  a 
rank  of  numbered  donkeys,  and  then  the  railway 
station  with  its  level  entrance  marks  the  end  of 
the  esplanade. 

Here,  then,  the  quay  ends,  and  the  shore  re- 
appears, capricious,  scattered  over  with  all  kinds 
of  breakneck  objects,  bristling  with  heaps  of 
broken  stones,  piles  of  wood,  of  barrels  or  of 
sacks,  but  also  with  booths  and  tents  that  betray  a 
fair  in  which  toys  and  popular  cakes  are  offered  for 
sale,  where  there  is  cooking  in  the  open  air,  and 
even  an  itinerant  circus  under  the  French  flag, 
whence  a  freshly  shorn  ass's  foal  and  a  superb  white 
camel  come  forth  to  the  tune  of  a  polka  to  drink 
at  the  river.  It  is  time  to  turn  aside  if  we  wish  to 
escape  these  suburban  attractions,  and  we  strike 
into  a  silent  street  which,  turning  its  back  to  the 
town,  seems  to  plunge  south  into  a  desert  of 
granite  and  sand.  The  site  has  the  wretched 
aspect  of  the  outskirts  of  cities,  houses  in  ruins, 
unproductive  gardens,  vague  plots  of  ground  dis- 
figured by  filth,  through  which  the  road  winds  and 
climbs.  A  portion  of  a  mosque  totters  on  the 
right,  a  trench  is  hollowed  where  the  road  sinks 
down,  and  suddenly,  as  in  Perrault's  fairy  tale, 
the  ground   half  opens  and  a   courtyard  appears 

284 


Assouan 

at  the  bottom  framed  on  two  sides  by  long,  new 
buildings.  A  troop  of  young  people  on  donkeys 
come  out  of  the  gateway  and  strike  into  the 
country.  Groups  of  people  walking  about  stop 
their  chatting  to  watch  them,  and  then  begin  to 
talk  again  faster  than  ever.  Two  dragomans  dis- 
pute in  a  corner  and  mutually  curse  their  father. 
A  cook,  dressed  in  white,  his  cap  on  one  side  and 
his  knife  in  his  waistband,  chases  a  boy  who  has 
stolen  a  pigeon  from  his  kitchen.  It  is  the  Cata- 
ract Hotel,  which  is  the  beginning  beyond 
Assouan  of  a  second  Assouan,  more  European 
than  the  first.  Exactly  opposite,  the  English 
Church  rears  its  cupola,  finished  last  year,  and  a 
little  to  the  south  the  reservoir,  finished  this  year, 
stands  on  the  height. 

If  the  town  has  done  its  best  to  receive  its 
visitors  according  to  their  taste,  the  visitors  for 
their  part  have  not  been  ungrateful.  Doubtless 
passing  tourists  form  the  great  majority  of  them, 
but  from  year  to  year  the  number  of  invalids  or  of 
sun-lovers  increases,  who  come  to  bask  in  the  sun, 
and  to  leave  with  regret  at  the  beginning  of  spring. 
During  the  winter  the  temperature  is  equable,  the 
sky  clear,  the  population,  except  the  beggars, 
amiable  and  easy  to  get  on  with,  and  the  hotels 
offer  those  who  are  not  afraid  of  the  expense  more 
intelligent  luxury  than  is  to  be  found  in  the  best 

285 


Egypt :  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

hotels  in  Italy.  Many  people  do  not  now  stay  at 
Louxor,  as  was  the  custom  only  three  or  four  years 
ago,  but  travel  straight  through  from  Cairo  to 
Assouan.  In  the  first  days  of  their  sojourn  most 
of  them  are  consumed  with  an  intense  archaeologi- 
cal ardour,  and  rush  incontinently  to  the  antiqui- 
ties. They  traverse  the  spot  where  the  Temple  of 
Elephantine  was,  the  quay  built  of  blocks  torn 
from  the  old  buildings  of  the  island,  the  Nilometer 
restored  by  Mahmoud  Pacha,  and  buy  Christian 
lamps  or  fragments  of  papyrus  from  the  Berbers. 
They  attack  the  hundred  steps  of  the  staircase 
which  leads  to  the  tomb  of  the  old  princes,  and 
marvel  at  the  barbarism  of  the  hieroglyphics  or 
figures  with  which  they  are  decorated.  They 
hasten  to  Deir  Amba  Simaan  to  study  the  vestiges 
of  Coptic  painting,  and  are  nothing  daunted  by 
the  five  miles  that  separate  them  from  Philse.  Is 
not  the  railway  of  Chellal  there  to  help  them  to 
cover  the  distance  in  forty  minutes  ?  With  some 
zeal  increases  in  proportion  as  the  stay  is  pro- 
longed, and  is  exercised  in  the  interests  of  science. 
It  led  the  Princess  Royal  of  Sweden  fifteen  years 
ago  to  undertake  most  successful  excavations. 
More  often  it  cools  at  the  first  signs  of  fatigue, 
and  less  exacting  distractions  take  its  place.  Elec- 
tive affinities  soon  show  themselves  between  these 
persons  of  such  differing  nationalities,  and  groups 

286 


Assouan 

are  formed  which  attract  and  repel  with  varjdng 
force.  The  hazard  of  traveUing  in  the  same 
carriage  or  of  a  meeting  in  the  corridors  has 
brought  persons  into  relations ;  they  talk  to  each 
other  a  little,  walk  together  a  little,  then  sit  at  the 
same  table,  and  after  the  meals  find  a  corner  in 
the  drawing-room  or  on  the  verandah  for  playing 
bridge  or  discussing  their  neighbours'  affairs.  Card- 
playing  is  the  great  resource,  I  will  not  say  against 
ennui,  for  there  is  no  ennui  in  the  life,  but 
against  the  monotony  of  the  days.  But  even  so, 
it  is  not  possible  to  fill  up  all  the  hours  of  the 
day  with  cards,  and  as  many  opportunities  as 
possible  are  made  to  go  out.  On  Sundays  the 
Church  services  fill  up  the  time,  but  in  the  week 
visits  are  industriously  exchanged  between  the 
hotels,  and  as  everybody  has  more  or  less  contempt 
for  the  hotel  he  does  not  happen  to  inhabit,  it  is 
with  some  slight  satisfaction  or  real  annoyance, 
according  to  circumstances,  that  the  advantages 
or  otherwise  are  discussed.  The  dinner  is  better 
at  the  Cataract,  but  at  the  Savoy  the  dining-room 
is  reached  by  a  monumental  staircase,  the  fine 
proportions  of  which  afford  some  compensation 
for  the  defects  of  the  cook.  There  is  a  good  deal 
of  music  and  as  much  dancing  as  circumstances 
permit,  picnics  are  organised  on  the  granite  islets, 
a  party  is  made  up  to  sketch  in  the  desert  or  in 

287 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

the  camp  of  the  Barabras,  and  if  nothing  more 
interesting  offers,  there  is  the  bazaar,  where  a 
couple  of  hours  of  the  afternoon  can  easily  be 
killed. 

The  bazaar  is  not  very  large,  but  it  is  one  of 
those  that  have  best  preserved  an  aspect  of  Eastern 
tradition.  The  hilly  street  which  runs  through  it 
and  the  streets  branching  off  from  it  are  roofed 
with  planks  as  in  olden  times,  and  the  shade  thus 
spread  over  the  stalls  does  no  harm  to  the  greater 
part  of  the  objects  to  be  seen  there.  Occasionally 
unexpected  discoveries  are  made.  Nearly  twenty 
years  ago  I  acquired  as  an  antiquity  a  white  clay 
pipe,  the  head  of  which  was  a  portrait  of 
Robespierre,  as  the  words  traced  in  enamelled 
letters  round  the  hatband  testified.  It  had  been  the 
property  of  one  of  the  French  soldiers  left  behind 
after  the  retreat  of  the  army;  but  how  had  so 
fragile  a  thing  remained  unbroken  among  those 
Berber  hands?  This  year  I  found  no  revolutionary 
pipe,  but  metal  buttons  seemed  to  me  to  abound — 
buttons  of  the  Republican  army,  buttons  of  the  first 
Regulars  of  Colonel  Selves,  buttons  of  the  time  of 
Ibrahim  the  Victorious  or  of  Said  Pacha,  buttons 
of  contemporary  English  soldiers — a  whole  course 
of  history  in  military  buttons.  The  rest  of  the 
things  consist  of  the  ordinary  objects  in  the  bazaars 
of   Upper    Egypt — Russian    or  Persian  enamels, 

288 


Assouan 

Indian  filigree  work,  inlaid  work,  and  the  red 
earthenware  of  Siout,  jewels  of  the  Soudan  or  of  the 
Hedjaz,  ostrich  feathers  eaten  away  by  vermin,  an 
incoherent  mass  of  African  weapons,  zagaies,  boar- 
spears,  rhinoceros  leather  shields  or  such  like, 
lances,  knives,  swords  ^ith  cross-shaped  guards 
on  their  flat  sheaths — all  handled  in  confusion  by 
young  women  in  bright  toilettes  who  bargained 
without  ever  buying  anything,  or  by  hurried 
tourists  who  buy  without  ever  bargaining,  by 
dragomans  interested  in  the  sale,  by  insinuating 
Parsee  agents  expert  in  fleecing  their  customers. 
Farther  on,  the  European  crowd  is  less,  but  busi- 
ness is  more  serious — in  the  bazaar  of  cotton  stuffs, 
of  shoes,  of  ironmongery,  of  provisions — and  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  see  a  curly-headed,  rosy-cheeked  grocer 
in  the  classical  uniform  of  the  trade  serve  a  half 
piastreworth  of  moist  sugar  to  dark-skinned  fellah 
women  or  dishevelled  Ababdehs.  But  the  shops 
grow  fewer,  the  bazaar  gradually  and  almost 
imperceptibly  melts  into  the  ordinary  street,  and 
before  we  know  it  old  Assouan  reappears,  solitary 
and  dusty.  We  are  in  dark  alleys,  tunnels  enr 
closed  between  the  two  walls  of  shaky  houses  ;  we 
see  the  door  of  a  mosque  through  which  comes  the 
undefined  murmur  of  a  monotonous  voice ;  chil- 
dren are  playing  in  the  dust  without  enthus'  ^sm  ; 
one  or  two  veiled  women  pass  close  to  the     >»H, 

289  T 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

then  at  the  outlet  of  a  square  a  corner  of  the  desert 
becomes  visible,  the  silhouette  of  two  or  three 
unsteady  Santons,  pieces  of  bricks  set  edgewise, 
tombs  freshly  whitewashed,  the  cemetery  where 
the  town  has  buried  its  dead  from  generation  to 
generation,  from  the  time  of  the  Musulman 
conquest. 

There  sleep  in  the  peace  of  Allah  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Mecca  and  Medina  colony  led  by  Amr 
ben  el- As  in  640,  the  Ashab  en-Nabi,  friends  of 
the  Prophet.  An  old  devotee  who  is  pursuing  his 
meditations  crouching  against  a  door  lifts  his  head 
on  hearing  their  names,  and  offers  to  show  us  the 
principal  tombs.  They  no  longer  preserve  the 
form  of  a  monument;  the  walls  have  burst  open, 
time  has  cut  the  cornices  into  irregular  festoons, 
cupolas  are  spUt  open,  and  the  sanctuaries  are  laid 
bare  to  the  gaze  of  the  Gentile  as  to  that  of  the 
true  beUever.  The  funerary  stelae,  many  of  which 
were  in  beautiful  writing,  were  all  taken  away 
several  years  ago  and  transported  to  Cairo,  where 
they  fill  up  the  Arab  Museum,  but  our  guide 
knows  who  were  the  owners  of  each  ruin,  and 
drones  out  their  history.  They  were  all  very 
great  saints,  and  innumerable  miracles  are  related 
of  them,  miracles  which  even  still  continue  to 
work.  The  Cheikh  AH  Abi-Yousef  Abou-Thaleb 
cures   rheumatism    and    gout.     The    sick  person 

390 


Assouan 

enters  his  oratory,  and  after  praying  lays  himself 
flat  on  the  ground  along  the  wall.  An  invisible 
hand  grasps  him,  rolls  him  across  the  chamber,  and 
he  gets  up  quite  well  at  the  other  end.  The 
Cheikh  Mohammed  ibn-Abou-Thaleb  is  inimitable 
in  restoring  objects  lost  by  or  stolen  from  his 
faithful  worshippers.  You  go  and  pray  over  him, 
and  on  your  return  home  find  the  things  in  their 
accustomed  place,  or  you  meet  the  thief,  who  brings 
them  back  in  spite  of  himself.  Once  a  peasant 
who  had  stolen  a  bag  of  dates  tried  to  resist  the  sug- 
gestion that  oppressed  him  and  to  flee  to  the  desert, 
but  after  walking  all  night  he  found  himself  at 
dawn  at  the  door  of  the  man  he  had  robbed  with- 
out in  the  least  knowing  how  he  came  there.  And 
these  stories  of  miracles  told  in  the  oncoming 
darkness,  in  the  midst  of  the  desolate  cemetery, 
assume  an  extraordinary  importance.  Our  guide 
believes  them  with  all  his  soul,  and  despite  the 
difference  of  religion  between  us,  he  does  not 
suspect  that  we  do  not  believe  them  too.  He 
respectfully  passes  his  hand  over  the  tops  of  the 
tombs  in  order  to  remove  a  few  atoms  of  dust, 
then  he  rubs  his  face  or  breast  and  recites  the 
Musulman  profession  of  faith  in  a  concentrated 
voice  :  he  steeps  himself  in  the  essence  of  the  saint, 
and  wishes  to  steep  us  in  it  too  for  our  good. 
He  interrupts  his  devotions  to  shout  to  us  that 

291 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

people  come  from  everywhere — from  Roum,  India, 
China,  the  land  of  Ouakouak,  the  country  of  the 
negroes — to  the  relics  of  these  saints.  Such  a 
pilgrim  will  sell  his  property  and  sail  or  ride  for 
months  before  reaching  Assouan.  He  prays  over 
the  glorious  sepulchres,  comforts  himself  with  a 
pinch  of  the  sacred  dust,  and  then  straightway 
departs,  entirely  happy  to  have  purchased  even 
at  the  price  of  his  whole  fortune  the  privilege  of 
visiting  the  spot  where  repose  the  most  venerated 
of  the  friends  of  the  Prophet.  And  we  who 
accompany  him  have  come  on  a  day  blessed  above 
all  others.  By  a  strange  coincidence  it  happens  that 
the  27th  of  Ramadan  falls  this  year  on  a  Friday ; 
and  is  not  the  night  of  the  27th  of  Ramadan  the 
celebrated  night  of  dignity,  Lelet  el-kadr,  during 
which  the  Koran  was  delivered  to  Mahomet  ?  The 
day  declines,  soon  the  gates  of  the  firmament  will 
open,  and  angels  will  descend  to  bring  the  benefits 
of  Heaven  to  the  creatures  of  earth.  Until  dawn 
all  prayers  will  ascend  without  hindrance  to  the 
ears  of  God,  and  none  will  be  refused  so  long  as  it 
contains  no  desire  contrary  to  the  law.  I  had 
some  scruple  in  only  offering  a  couple  of  piastres 
by  way  of  a  tip  to  a  guide  so  learned  in  the  things 
of  heaven  and  earth,  but  it  must  be  believed  that 
in  giving  us  his  services  his  sole  thought  was  not  of 
material  gain,  for  he  heaped  blessings  on  us. 

292 


Assouan 

The  setting  sun  had  shed  its  last  hght,  and  the 
stars  were  coming  out  one  after  the  other,  when 
we  decided  to  depart.  The  bazaar  was  not  yet 
closed,  and  sounds  of  merry  voices  together  with  a 
smell  of  cooking  announced  the  beginning  of  one 
of  those  feastings  which  make  up  each  evening  for 
the  strict  fasting  of  the  days  of  the  month  of 
Ramadan.  Everywhere  the  streets  were  empty, 
the  doors  closed,  the  houses  silent,  while  the  magic 
darkness  of  night  in  the  East  spread  over  the 
buildings  of  modern  Assouan,  modifying  its  vul- 
garity. Suddenly  the  chant  of  the  muezzin  burst 
over  our  heads.  It  was  the  melody  that  Felicien 
David  noted,  and  that  his  "  Desert "  made  popular 
in  France,  but  here  was  the  air  intoned  by  a 
young,  fresh,  clear,  resonant  voice,  triumphant  with 
faith  and  trust  in  a  merciful  and  victorious  God. 
The  quay  was  deserted,  the  river  silent.  Elephan- 
tine bounded  the  horizon  with  its  uncertain  out- 
line. Instead  of  the  confusion  and  noise  of  the 
daytime  there  reigned  everywhere  the  reposeful 
delight  in  living  that  no  one  can  ever  boast 
he  has  completely  felt  if  he  has  never  been  in 
Egypt. 


293 


XXVII 

THE    CONVENT    OF    ST.   SIMEON    NEAR    ASSOUAN 

Assouan  was  ardently  Christian  before  becoming 
ardently  Musulman,  and  for  centuries  possessed 
at  least  as  many  churches  as  it  counts  mosques 
to-day.  But  now  its  Christianity  has  vanished 
without  leaving  any  traces,  except  the  ruins  of 
several  considerable  convents  to  be  found  in  the 
outskirts.  There  are  some  to  the  south,  among 
the  rocks  that  dominate  the  Cataract  Hotel, 
among  the  tombs  built  for  the  friends  of  the 
Prophet.  There  are  some  to  the  east,  on  the 
borders  of  the  Libyan  Desert,  but  dismantled  and 
so  covered  up  by  sand  that  their  traces  are  scarcely 
visible.  There  are  some  again  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Nile,  against  the  cliif  where  the  princes 
of  the  Vlth  and  Xllth  Dynasties  dug  out  their 
tombs.  Only  one,  that  of  St.  Simeon,^  has 
remained  intact  and  deserves  a  visit. 

'  I  have  kept  this  name  here,  which  is  that  used  in  the 
Tourists'  Guides,  I  do  not  know  on  what  authority.  The 
people  of  the  district  call  it  Deir  Amba  Hedere,  and  it  is  in 

294 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

It  is  best  to  set  out  about  three  o'clock,  when 
the  heat  of  the  day  is  beginning  to  lessen  and 
the  river  resumes  its  customary  animation.  The 
Ababdehs  and  sellers  of  false  scarabs,  revived  by 
their  siesta,  persecute  the  strangers  who  arrived 
in  the  morning,  and  are  not  yet  acquainted  with 
them,  with  their  offers.  The  boats,  dressed  with 
flags,  pass  each  other  noisily,  sailing,  rowing,  dis- 
embarking tourists  from  the  island  at  the  town 
and  tourists  from  the  town  at  the  island.  One  of 
the  three  or  four  of  Cook's  "Ramesses"  gets  up 
steam  for  departing,  and  when  ready  summons  its 
passengers  by  strident  whistles.  A  little  farther  to 
the  south  an  American  dahabieh  lowers  its  larger 
lateen  sail-yard,  which,  as  it  is  returning  to  Cairo, 
will  not  henceforth  be  needed.  The  musician  of 
the  crew  sends  forth  his  most  exquisite  roulades 
in  order  to  enliven  the  work,  and  native  melo- 
maniacs,  crouching  on  the  bank,  utter  sounds  of 
ecstasy  towards  the  end  of  the  cadences.  The 
current  becomes  swifter  as  the  channel  grows 
narrower,  the  boatmen  lean  more  to  their  oars,  and 
at  the  turn  of  the  old  quay  Assouan  suddenly 
disappears ;  at  the  same  moment  all  the  sounds  of 
music  or  of  human  voices  become  silent  as  if  carried 

fact  placed  under  the  protection  of  Saint  Hatre,  or,  in  the 
vulgar  pronunciation,  Hedere,  one  of  the  most  holy  saints  of 
Egyptian  Christianity. 

295 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

away  by  the  breeze  that  blows  from  the  Cataract. 
Pagnon's  Hotel  is  in  sight  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
it  vanishes  in  its  turn,  and  we  might  think  our- 
selves far  from  modern  Egypt  if  below  on  a  height 
an  English  redoubt  did  not  ostentatiously  display 
its  newly  whitened  walls. 

Across  on  the  right  Elephantine  slowly  defiles, 
its  shore  scattered  over  with  blocks  half  buried  in 
the  sand,  its  Tell  dug  out  and  undermined  by  the 
sebakh  diggers,  with  its  dark-coloured  embankment 
that  is  being  continually  destroyed  and  restored  by 
the  current,  with  its  quincunxes  of  palm-trees  of 
unequal  heights.  The  water  murmurs  and  flows 
swiftly  round  us,  in  front  of  us,  behind  us,  divided 
into  a  hundred  foaming  channels  by  the  granite 
blocks,  chiefly  of  a  dull  red  colour,  the  sides  of  a 
shining  black  where  the  inundation  has  polished 
them.  Here  and  there  several  are  joined  together 
by  banks  of  gravel  or  strips  of  compact  slime,  so 
as  to  form  islets  bristling  with  weeds  and  bram- 
bles run  wild.  A  few  acacias  have  by  some 
chance  sprung  up  on  the  largest  and  pretend  to 
give  shade.  A  family  of  Berbers  have  installed 
themselves  in  a  low  hut  made  of  mud  and  twigs, 
and  in  the  winter  manage  to  cultivate  a  few 
poor  vegetables.  It  is  the  very  borderland  of  the 
savage  Ufe :  two  or  three  hens  scuttle  away  when 
they  see  us,  a  tethered  goat  cries  out  in  distress, 

296 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

and  the  dog,  awakened  by  the  noise,  barks  at  us 
as  long  as  we  remain  in  sight. 

The  creek  where  we  disembark  must  often  have 
been  crowded  and  noisy  in  the  days  of  the  con- 
vent's prosperity.  Everything  brought  to  the 
monks  from  outside  must  perforce  have  landed 
there :  convoys  of  provisions  and  cattle,  troops 
of  pilgrims,  soldiers  told  off  to  police  the  desert, 
merchants,  farmers,  tax-collectors,  the  servants, 
vassals  and  serfs  that  the  active  monasteries  of  the 
Said  then  attracted  to  themselves.  Now  it  is  only 
frequented  by  tourists  from  Assouan  during  the 
four  months  of  the  season,  but  the  natives  of 
Elephantine  have  appropriated  to  themselves  the 
strip  of  alluvium  that  borders  it  by  right  of 
seizure,  and  there  cultivate  a  few  castor-oil  plants, 
a  little  bersim,  lupins,  beans,  and  barley,  and 
thus  there  is  along  the  waterside  a  velvety  bor- 
dering of  young  springlike  verdure.  It  is  only 
fifteen  yards  at  its  widest,  and  in  Europe  the  game 
would  not  be  worth  the  candle,  but  cultivable 
land  is  so  rare  in  Egypt  that  nothing  is  despised. 
The  labourers  will  obtain  for  a  few  weeks  more 
food  than  they  could  glean  elsewhere,  and  will 
thus  be  able  to  reach  the  end  of  the  year  without 
having  to  endure  famine.  Beyond,  stretches  a  belt 
of  withered,  dishevelled  alfas,  and  then  behind  the 
alfas  comes  the  bare,  sterile  desert.      The  ouady 

297 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

goes  its  way  in  a  gentle  slope  between  two  hills 
the  soil  of  which  is  becoming  exhausted,  and 
opposite  us  at  the  culminating  point  the  monas- 
tery stands  out  against  the  sky,  with  the  grim 
profile  of  its  walls.  The  rock  shows  in  places, 
black  and  grey,  but  a  golden  sand  fills  in  the 
hollows,  a  fluid  sand  that  is  made  by  the  decom- 
position of  the  sandstone  in  the  sun.  The  sand  of 
the  third  ravine,  to  the  left  in  leaving  the  river,  is 
the  object  of  singular  veneration  to  the  riverside 
population.  They  imagine  that  it  will  cure  them 
of  fever  and  all  serious  maladies.  They  scale  the 
cliffs  at  one  effort,  and  when  the  top  is  reached, 
recite  a  short  prayer — the  Musuhnans,  the  fdtikha,^ 
the  Christians,  Our  Father;  then  they  lie  down 
on  their  right  side  and  roll  down  the  slope.  If 
they  get  to  the  bottom  at  one  attempt,  without 
stopping,  the  cure  is  immediate.  If  there  is  any 
pause  on  the  way  they  may  try  twice  again,  but 
if  the  third  time  they  are  still  unsuccessful,  it  is 
well  to  think  of  making  their  will,  for  they  are 
condemned  without  hope  of  remedy.  Like  many 
customs  of  the  same  sort,  this  one  has  its  origin  in 
antiquity.  The  charm  first  worked  by  the  power 
of  Khnoumou,  lord  of  the  Cataract,  then  Khnoumou 
transmitted  it  to  St.  Hedere,  and  now  a  Musul- 

^  The  fdtikha    is    the   first  sourate  of  the  Koran,  that 
which  opens  the  Holy  Book. 

298 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST,  SIMEON,   NEAR  ASSOUAN. 


To  face  p.  299. 


The  Convent  of  St.   Simeon 

man  Cheikh,  whose  name  no  one  would  tell  me, 
has  stepped  into  the  inheritance  of  St.  Hedere 
and  of  Khnoumou.  So  it  is  throughout  Egypt. 
The  people  in  changing  their  religion  have  not 
changed  their  nature,  and  those  whom  they  con- 
tinue to  pray  to  under  new  names  are  the 
physician-gods  worshipped  by  their  ancestors. 
Perhaps  they  in  their  turn  had  borrowed  the  cult 
from  one  of  the  forgotten  tribes  who  dwelt  on 
the  banks  of  the  Nile  in  prehistoric  times. 

The  convent  occupies  a  very  strong  position. 
It  is  partly  built  in  stories  on  the  slope  of  the 
hill,  partly  on  the  edge  of  the  rocky  promontory 
that  commands  the  last  turn  of  the  ouady.  It 
is  in  the  form  of  an  irregular  trapezium,  the 
broader  axis  of  which  is  in  the  direction  from 
south  to  north.  Like  all  the  monasteries  of 
Egypt,  it  was  besides  an  asylum  of  prayer  a 
fortress  capable  of  resisting  the  most  violent 
attacks  for  weeks.  The  outer  wall  is  in  a  straight 
line,  almost  without  towers  or  bastions,  and  still 
measures  in  places  seven  or  eight  yards  in  height. 
The  lower  courses  are  of  big  unhewn  stones  so  as 
better  to  resist  undermining ;  the  upper  courses 
are  of  brick,  and  all  in  such  good  condition  that 
with  a  few  cursory  repairs  the  building  would  be 
able  to  withstand  an  attack.  At  one  point  only 
is  the   damage    considerable,   at   the   south-west 

299 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

corner,  at  the  place  of  disembarkation  when 
coming  from  the  river.  A  portion  has  fallen 
down  for  a  length  of  about  four  yards,  and  the 
rubble  spread  along  the  base  on  the  ground  only 
half  fills  up  the  breach. 

A  broken  vault  and  masses  of  scattered  masonry 
can  be  seen  in  the  interior,  over  which  the  wind 
has  laid  a  thin  covering  of  sand,  then  a  corridor 
which  leads  to  some  dark  chamber.  It  was  the 
way  by  which  the  enemy  entered  in  that  last 
attack,  and  it  has  remained  the  same  ever  since. 
The  entrance  proper  was  sixty  yards  beyond,  in 
an  almost  square  projecting  portion,  standing  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  east  front,  and  it  was  de- 
fended according  to  the  rules  of  the  art.  In  the 
angle  formed  by  the  projection  and  the  wall  was 
a  low  postern,  which  could  not  be  approached 
without  exposing  to  the  defenders  the  side  that 
the  shield  did  not  protect.  When  they  had 
beaten  in  the  wings  of  the  door.  Heaven  knows 
at  what  cost,  they  found  themselves  in  a  dark 
chamber,  in  the  left  wall  of  which  was  another 
door,  at  least  as  solid  as  the  first.  Having  passed 
through  that,  a  third  door,  situated  at  the  end 
of  a  corridor  enclosed  by  two  waUs,  had  to  be 
forced.  It  was  the  last,  but  even  after  gaining 
possession  of  that  it  must  not  be  thought  that 
the  place  was  taken.     Each  of  the  two  levels  on 

300 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

which  the  monastery  was  distributed  formed  an 
independent  quarter  separated  from  its  neighbour 
by  a  wall.  The  enemy  who  had  gained  possession 
of  the  east  door  was  master  of  the  eastern 
quarter,  but  that  covered  scarcely  a  third  of  the 
total  surface.  A  second  siege  had  to  be  under- 
taken if  the  western  quarter  was  to  be  taken, 
at  least  if  the  monks  did  not  in  despair  deliver 
up  the  place  without  further  resistance. 

The  convent  chapel  was  as  if  thrown  across  the 
eastern  quarter,  and  filled  it  almost  entirely  from 
the  bastion  of  the  entrance  to  the  inner  wall.  The 
general  plan  is  that  of  the  classic  basilica,  slightly 
modified  to  the  needs  of  the  Christian  worship. 
The  atrium  and  the  narthex  are  buried  under  the 
rubbish,  but  the  outline  of  the  aula  can  clearly  be 
traced  on  the  ground  with  the  vast  central  nave,  and 
the  aisles  divided  from  the  nave,  the  north  aisle, 
where  the  women  assembled,  by  a  screen  pierced 
with  doors,  the  south  aisle,  reserved  for  men,  by 
three  pillars,  the  bases  of  which  remain.  The  roof 
has  fallen  in  with  the  exception  of  a  few  places 
where  the  vaulting  began  to  spring,  but  the  aspect 
of  the  debris  heaped  on  the  ground  and  the  walls 
still  standing  make  it  easy  to  reconstitute  it.  It 
consisted  of  a  series  of  domes,  side  by  side  in  a  long 
line.  The  lateral  naves  had  three  each,  that  of  the 
centre  being  broader  than  the  two  others.     The 

301 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

same  system  prevailed  above  the  central  nave,  but 
the  domes  there  were  necessarily  higher.  It  was 
planned,  as  is  still  the  case  in  the  greater  number  of 
the  convents  in  Upper  Egypt,  to  accentuate  very 
clearly  outside  the  disposition  of  the  cross,  which 
was  not  clearly  enough  shown  in  the  interior.  All 
the  surfaces  were  whitewashed,  and  at  most  they 
might  have  painted  the  big  knots,  the  outlines  of 
which  are  vaguely  to  be  seen  on  the  remains  of  the 
whitewash,  in  three  colours,  black,  yellow,  and  red. 
There  was  only  real  decoration  in  the  choir,  or,  to 
give  it  its  Arab  name,  in  the  hekal  round  the  altar. 
It  comprised  three  niches  surmounted  by  a  vaulted 
roof  formed  of  a  semi-dome  open  towards  the  con- 
gregation. We  can  just  manage  to  see  the  marks 
of  several  layers  of  paintings  superimposed  one  on 
the  other,  pieces  of  drapery  and  figures  superior  in 
style  to  that  of  the  pictures  that  overlay  them. 
They  can  scarcely  go  back  beyond  the  eleventh 
century,  and  are  probably  the  work  of  one  of  the 
monks  of  St.  Hedere.  In  the  curve  of  the  apse 
the  Christ  is  seated,  a  big,  melancholy  Christ, 
motionless  in  the  midst  of  an  oval  glory.  He  wears 
a  green  tunic  over  which  floats  a  purple  cloak.  He 
holds  the  Gospel  resting  on  His  knees  with  the  left 
hand  and  lifts  the  right  one  in  order  to  bless  the 
world.  Two  angels  and  two  saints  frame  Him 
symmetrically  on  the  right  and  left,   fairly  well 

ao2 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

preserved  angels  with  their  yellow  wings,  aureole, 
purple  cloak  and  white  dress.  It  is  the  traditional 
composition  which  repeats  itself  all  over  the  world, 
in  Italy  as  in  Egypt,  but  the  workmanship  here  is 
especially  poor.  Assouan  was  situated  on  the 
borders  of  Christian  civiUsation,and  the  arts  suffered 
crueUy  from  the  neighbourhood  of  barbarism. 
Nothing  proves  it  better  than  the  miserable  pro- 
cession the  remains  of  which  may  be  seen  under 
the  Christ  on  the  vertical  walls  of  the  apse.  There 
are  twenty-four  venerable  personages,  the  old  men 
of  the  Apocalypse,  to  whom  the  Egyptians  assigned 
the  names  of  the  twenty-four  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
They  stand  side  by  side  and  face  the  spectators. 
They  are  tall,  thin,  unnatural,^  without  consistency 
in  their  priestly  garments,  with  long  beards,  ex- 
pressionless features,  enormous  foreheads,  big, 
deep-set  eyes,  unintelligent.  The  Coptic  painters 
produced  nothing  more  ugly. 

It  was  all  decaying  when  I  first  saw  it  twenty- 
two  years  ago,  and  it  has  become  much  worse 
since:  a  few  more  bad  seasons  and  nothing  will 
be  left  of  it.  Sgraffiti  drawn  with  a  knife  or 
with  red  and  black  ink,  in  the  two  cells  next  the 
hekal,  show  the  feelings  of  piety  that  the  contem- 
plation of  these  astounding  works  of  art  awoke  in 
the  soul  of  the  religious.  The  formula  scarcely 
ever   varies.     One,   Archelaus,   a  native  brother, 

303 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

asks  the  Lord  to  pardon  him  his  sins.  One,  Am- 
monios,  who  confesses  himself  the  worst  of  monks, 
implores  the  divine  mercy.  Others  implore  the 
saints  to  remember  them  or  not  to  forget  a  rela- 
tive who  entered  into  everlasting  rest  the  13th  of 
Choiak  of  the  sixth  indiction.  The  greater  part 
of  the  early  ones  are  in  Coptic.  Some  who  no 
longer  knew  Coptic  employ  Arabic,  and  as  the 
centuries  advance  Arabic  more  and  more  predomi- 
nates. It  is  almost  solely  used  in  the  inscriptions 
after  the  devastation  of  the  convent,  and  appears 
everywhere  in  the  chambers  behind  the  apse,  in  the 
aisles,  in  the  corridors,  and  in  the  chapels.  The 
rocky  wall  against  which  the  church  leans  had  been 
worked  as  a  quarry  about  the  end  of  the  Greek 
epoch,  and  the  stonecutters  had  dug  out  excavations 
which  sheltered  hermits  when  Egypt  was  converted 
to  Christianity.  One  of  the  last  doubtless  acquired 
a  reputation  for  holiness  in  the  neighbouring  vil- 
lages, for  his  retreat  was  changed  into  an  oratory 
at  the  foundation  of  the  convent  and  decorated 
with  pictures.  Here,  as  in  the  church,  the  painting 
was  several  times  renewed  in  the  course  of  cen- 
turies :  the  present  one  is  nearly  as  extraordinary  as 
the  paintings  in  the  apse.  Two  shining  rows  of 
sad  hierarchical  personages  fill  three  of  the  sides,  and 
among  those  whose  names  are  legible  may  be 
distinguished  some  of  the  most  illustrious  saints  of 

304 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

the  Coptic  Calendar,  the  Apa  Pnoup,  the  Apa 
Poimen,  the  Apa  Mercoure,  the  Apa  Phibammon. 
On  the  ceiUng  the  haloed  heads  of  saints  grimace 
among  the  twistings  of  variegated  winding  lines. 
The  other  portions  accessible  from  the  quarry  seem 
to  have  been  utilised  as  dwelling-houses  or  store- 
houses for  the  servants.  These  would  include  the 
workmen  necessary  for  keeping  up  the  buildings, 
or  for  providing  for  the  comfort  of  the  monks, 
joiners,  carpenters,  bricklayers,  smiths,  bakers,  shep- 
herds, fishermen.  These  semi-laymen  dwelt  with 
their  wives  and  children  on  the  north  and  south 
sides  of  the  church,  and  by  its  position  their  quarter 
was  the  place  of  transition  between  the  world  and 
the  cloister.  It  seems  to  me  that  some  of  the 
buildings  to  be  found  there  served  as  stables  or 
poultry  yards,  at  least  on  occasions  of  absolute 
necessity.  When  the  Bedouins  or  the  Nubian 
tribes  prowled  about  the  neighbourhood,  intercept- 
ing communication  with  Assouan,  the  monks  had 
to  live,  and  how  could  they  have  managed  if  they 
had  not  possessed  reserve  of  cattle  within  their 
walls  ? 

The  monks  lived  on  the  north-west  side,  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  profane  life,  and  only  communi- 
cated with  the  lower  convent  by  a  steep  path 
supported  against  one  of  the  aisles  of  the  church. 
Their  quarters  seemed  less  like  a  house  of  religion 

305  u 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

than  a  dungeon,  the  crenellated  surfaces  of  which 
overhung  the  rock  from  east  to  north,  and  on 
west  and  south  overlooked  a  large  empty  court- 
yard. The  monks  were  completely  isolated,  and 
when  the  rest  of  the  building  had  succumbed  could 
hold  out  there  for  days  or  even  weeks  longer.  The 
entrance  was  guarded  by  a  tower,  the  guard-room 
of  which  was  destroyed  during  the  last  attack  which 
the  place  underwent.  It  is  now  approached  over  a 
heap  of  disaggregated  bricks,  and  you  find  yourself 
in  a  sort  of  two-storied  barrack,  divided  from  south 
to  north  in  five  longitudinal  divisions.  The  one 
into  which  we  penetrated  traversed  the  whole 
length  of  the  building.  It  is  vaulted  from  end 
to  end,  and  is  closed  at  the  northern  end  by  a 
clerestory  of  six  superimposed  openings,  three,  then 
two,  then  one,  the  three  lowest  cut  in  rectangular 
loopholes,  the  three  above  finished  lancet  fashion. 
Here  and  there  portions  of  the  walls  or  pieces  of 
the  roof  have  fallen  down,  and  the  ground  is 
covered  with  the  debris.  The  whitewash  has  peeled 
off,  leaving  the  beaten  earth  exposed  with  which  the 
beds  of  brick  were  plastered.  Where  it  has  lasted, 
it  is  covered  with  pious  formulas  and  proper  names, 
some  in  Coptic,  but  the  greater  number  in  Arabic. 
There  are  some  of  the  twelfth  century,  but  many 
are  no  more  than  ten  or  twelve  years  old:  the 
dragomans  of  the  dahabiehs  have  not  omitted  to 

306 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

record  in  big  letters  in  the  most  conspicuous  places 
the  day  and  month  of  their  visit.  Red  crosses  are 
spread  among  these  writings,  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  gallery  there  are  two  pictures  facing  each  other 
on  the  two  walls.  That  on  the  east  is  entirely 
effaced,  but  enough  of  the  other  remains  to  allow 
us  to  perceive  the  subject.  Christ  is  seated 
under  a  portico,  in  the  position  of  a  Byzantine 
Emperor.  Two  winged  archangels  mount  guard 
symmetrically  on  His  right  and  left,  and  then  come 
six  apostles  standing  in  single  file.  The  artist  to 
whom  we  owe  this  piece  was  industrious,  but  his 
brush  has  betrayed  him  in  a  miserable  fashion. 
Yet  if  he  had  succeeded,  his  brothers  would  not 
have  attached  more  value  to  his  work.  When  they 
prostrated  themselves  before  it  in  their  prayers  it 
was  not  the  picture  they  saw  but  the  Christ  Him- 
self, His  angels.  His  disciples,  and  the  imperfections 
of  the  painting  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  the 
beauty  of  their  visions.  They  dwelt  to  the  right 
and  left  in  dark  cells  that  could  hold  two,  three, 
four,  even  six  inmates.  Benches  of  unburnt  bricks 
marked  the  spot  where  they  placed  their  coarse 
straw  mats  for  their  nightly  repose,  and  niches  in 
the  wall  held  the  lamp  or  the  jar  of  fresh  water 
from  which  they  quenched  their  thirst.  There 
they  spent  their  hours  of  sleep,  interrupted  by 
interminable  prayers,  and  scarcely  left  their  cells 

307 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

except  to  go  down  into  the  church  or  to  the  refec- 
tory. They  took  their  meals  in  a  gallery  parallel 
to  the  first,  to  the  west  of  their  cells,  and  neigh- 
bouring halls  represent  perhaps  the  places  of  the 
chapter-house  or  the  Ubrary. 

The  whitewash  of  the  doors  and  walls  is  smooth 
and  worn,  soiled  by  contact  with  thousands  of 
damp  hands  and  monks'  cloaks  that  rubbed  against 
it  in  passing.  A  blackened  lamp  lies  forgotten 
in  one  of  the  niches,  water-jars  almost  intact  lean 
here  and  there  against  a  bench ;  at  moments  we 
have  the  impression  that  the  ruins  are  of  yesterday, 
and  the  monks  are  in  hiding  near  at  hand,  only 
waiting  for  the  retreat  of  the  Gentiles  to  reinhabit 
their  cells. 

Their  life  pursued  the  even  tenour  of  its  way, 
empty,  miserable.  The  storm  of  religious  passion 
and  the  stress  of  theological  ardour  that  swept 
over  Egypt  in  the  centuries  preceding  the  Arab 
conquest  had  long  abated  when  these  monks  took 
the  vows  that  bound  them.  Some  among  them 
still  nourished  the  faith  of  which  martyrs  are 
made,  and  courageously  faced  torture  when  a 
Sultan  let  persecution  loose  among  them.  They 
lacked  the  knowledge  which  had  made  their 
spiritual  ancestors  of  Scete  or  Atripe  famous,  and 
which  had  put  the  heads  of  the  Church  of  Alex- 
andria   in    the    first    rank    of   the    defenders    of 

308 


The  Convent  of  St.   Simeon 

orthodoxy.     They  still  had  a  library  in  which  they 
could  have  consulted  the  Coptic  translations  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Greek  Church,  St.  Basil,  St.  Chrys- 
ostom,   St.   Athanasius,    St.    Cyril,    the    original 
works  of  their  most  eloquent  orators,  Pisendi  or 
Chenoude.     But  it  would  have  been  too   strong 
meat  for  their  minds,  and  most  of  them  no  longer 
understood  the  discussions  on  doctrine  with  which 
the   sermons  of  these   old  preachers   abound.     It 
was   a   very  long  time   since   any  of  them    had 
disputed  concerning  the  nature  of  the  Christ  or  the 
part  of  the  Virgin   JNIother.     They  repeated  the 
Credo  of  their  spiritual  heads  without  in  the  least 
attempting  to  understand  it,  and  only  cared  for  one 
dogma,  that  which,  proclaiming  the  priority  of  the 
seat  of  St.  Mark,  made  the  Church  of  Alexandria 
at    least    the    equal  if  not  the    superior  of   the 
Churches  of  Rome  or  Constantinople.     Thus  they 
let  the  theological  manuscripts  rot  in  their  cases, 
and  did  not  replace  them  as  time  destroyed  them. 
Their  scribes  only  re-copied  the  Lives  of  the  Saints, 
the    Psalms,   the    Epistles,   the    Apocalypse,   the 
glosses  that  helped  to  the  understanding  of  the  two 
Testaments.     It  is  probable  that  after  the  eighth 
century  the  greater  part  of  the  monks  could  not 
write,  and  could  only  read  with  difficulty.     They 
employed  their  time  in  a  routine  of  services  and 
mortifications  that  prevented  them  getting  very  far 

309 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

with  their  learning.  The  supreme  authority  of  the 
abbot  maintained  an  appearance  of  harmony  among 
them,  but  they  were  secretly  torn  by  hatreds  that 
invariably  develop  among  persons  forced  con- 
tinually to  meet  each  other  in  a  too  restricted 
space.  Intrigues  arose  around  each  dignitary,  and 
mutinies  sometimes  occurred  in  support  of  these 
intrigues.  And  then  the  Musulmans  overwhelmed 
them  with  insults  and  annoyances.  The  armies  of 
the  King  of  Nubia,  Christians  as  they  were,  came 
at  intervals  to  pillage  their  farms  and  encamp  at 
their  gates,  and  they  had  either  to  repel  their 
co-reUgionists  by  force  or  buy  them  off  with 
money.  The  more  distant  Nubians,  the  troops  of 
the  Sultan,  Arabs,  negroes,  Dilemites,  Lowatas,  rose 
in  their  turn  and  claimed  ransom  ;  then  the  monks 
had  to  make  fresh  sacrifices  and  disburse  for  the 
Musulmans  at  least  as  muchas  they  had  paid  the 
Christians.  The  monks  held  firm  for  three  or  four 
hundred  years,  but  at  length,  poor,  hungry, 
diminished  in  numbers,  in  no  condition  to  recruit 
their  ranks  or  repair  their  walls,  they  threw  up  the 
game  and  took  refuge  in  the  Coptic  communities 
of  Edfou  and  of  Esneh.  About  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century  the  monastery  of  St.  Hedere 
was  deserted. 

The  staircase  of  the  tower  is  no  longer  in  a 
condition    of   soUdity.     Steps    are    wanting,   and 

310 


The  Convent  of  St.  Simeon 

those  still  there  hold  together  only  by  a  miracle, 
for  they  are  worn,  dented,  unsteady,  full  of  holes 
and  cracks  into  which  the  feet  go  as  in  a  trap. 
Half-way  up,  on  a  dangerous  landing,  a  door 
gives  access  to  the  first  floor  of  the  convent.  The 
arrangement  is  similar  to  that  on  the  ground-floor, 
long  vaulted  galleries  with  sgraffiti  and  pictures 
of  saints  in  bad  condition,  cells,  assembly  halls, 
stores.  The  terminal  platform  is  not  very  safe, 
but,  looking  down,  there  is  a  view  from  it  of  a 
panorama  of  unexpected  extent  and  beauty.  First 
comes  the  monastery  itself,  crowded  on  its  rocky 
saddle,  the  whole  of  its  buildings,  its  open  basilica 
exposed  to  all  the  winds,  its  courtyards  filled  with 
sand,  its  fallen  walls.  On  three  sides  lies  the 
desert,  solitary  and  gloomy  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun.  On  the  east  the  Nile  glitters  among 
its  rocks.  Elephantine  displays  its  masses  of  foHage, 
Assouan  stands  out  like  a  flat  silhouette  against 
a  background  of  granite  and  sandstone,  and 
beyond,  in  the  far  distance,  a  country  inset  with 
vaporous  summits  begins  to  be  tinted  with  the 
pinks  and  violets  of  the  evening  light. 


311 


XXVIII 

We  must  take  half  an  hour's  journey  by  train, 
first  through  one  of  the  native  suburbs  of  Assouan, 
then  in  sight  of  a  horde  of  Bicharis  encamped  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  suburb  so  as  to  give  the 
tourists  an  impression  of  Hfe  in  the  desert,  and 
lastly  along  a  monotonous  slope  of  rocks  and 
reddish  sand.  The  train  is  a  real  Paris  suburban 
train,  with  its  carriages  too  old  for  the  service  of 
the  long-distance  lines,  with  an  old-fashioned 
locomotive,  a  great  boiler  stuck  on  wheels,  which 
wiU  resolutely  do  its  fifteen  miles  an  hour  if  the 
driver  will  let  it.  It  goes  painfuUy  panting  over 
the  slope  until  at  last  straight  in  front  of  it,  above 
the  line  of  sandstone  that  just  now  bounded  the 
horizon,  there  slowly  come  into  view  mounds  of 
blackish  granite  and  a  blue-grey  plain  flooded  with 
Ught  in  which  the  currents  thread  their  way  and 
cross  each  other.  Groups  of  dying  palms  or 
withered  acacias  are  set  in  the  water  in  front  of  the 
embankment  itself,  marking    the  outline  of  the 

312 


Philje 

ancient  banks,  and  a  mass  of  submerged  buildings 
of  different  heights  seems  as  if  fallen  into  the 
middle  of  the  basin — pylons,  colonnades,  kiosks, 
tops  of  temples — exactly  what  is  to  be  seen  of 
Philae  between  December  15th  of  one  year  and 
May  15th  of  the  following  year.  We  get  out  of 
the  train  and  embark,  and  coast  successively  the  sanc- 
tuary of  Isis,  the  propylsea  of  Hadrian,  the  Quay 
Wall  on  the  east,  and  doubling  at  the  spot  where  the 
obelisk  of  Nectanebo  formerly  marked  the  landing- 
stage  of  the  ancient  place  of  disembarkation,  we 
arrive  between  the  two  porticoes  of  Augustus  and 
Tiberius.  We  go  through  the  monumental  door, 
almost  at  the  level  of  the  inscription  engraved  by 
the  French  soldiers  of  Desaix,  and  passing  through 
the  courtyard  reach  the  top  step  of  the  grand 
staircase.  The  water  flows  noisily  from  the  house 
of  the  priests  of  Isis  to  the  chapel  of  Hathor,  then 
it  runs  to  the  right  of  the  pronaos  through  the 
postern  that  opened  on  to  the  propylasa  of  Trajan 
and  Hadrian.  We  seem  to  be  transported  unawares 
into  one  of  the  fantastic  havens  bordered  with 
watch-towers  and  palaces  that  the  Romans  of  the 
Imperial  epoch  were  fond  of  painting  on  the  walls 
of  their  villas. 

Tourists  may  still  go  dryshod  over  the  place  of 
disembarkation,  the  hypostyle,  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
the  courtyard  and  Chamber  of  the  New  Year,  the 

313 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

portions  of  buildings  grouped  in  front  or  on  the 
sides  of  the  naos,  and  the  corridors  that  form  com- 
munications between  them.  At  least  the  Nile  only- 
wets  them  exceptionally  when  the  north  wind, 
stirring  the  water,  raises  waves  which  flow  through 
the  halls.  But  if  the  water  only  seldom  flows  over 
the  pavements,  its  presence  is  felt  everywhere  in 
the  veinings  and  under  the  outer  layer  of  the  stone. 
Without  possibiHty  of  preventing  its  progress,  it 
has  silently  filtered  through  from  bottom  to  top, 
by  rills  as  fine  as  hairs,  and  between  two  inunda- 
tions has  impregnated  the  entire  fabric.  The  walls 
look  damp  to  the  eye  and  are  damp  to  the  fingers 
if  they  are  touched.  The  sandstone  has  shed  the 
grey  granulated  covering  the  dryness  of  which 
had  clothed  it  for  centuries,  and  it  slowly  resumes 
the  yellowish  colour  it  had  in  the  quarry.  The 
faded  and  dirty  colours  which  here  and  there 
clothe  the  figures  of  the  gods  or  the  architectural 
ornaments  are  strengthened  and  revived  by  the 
damp.  Even  the  celebrated  capitals  of  the  pronaos 
have  less  dry  and  inharmonious  tones  than  for- 
merly. The  reds,  blues,  yellows,  and  greens  have 
insensibly  run  into  each  other  at  the  edges  under 
the  persistent  influence  of  the  dampness  acting 
behind  them  in  the  stone;  and  while  this  interior 
work  softens  and  shades  them,  the  reflections  of 
the  ever-moving   water   which   light  them  from 

314 


Phil^ 

below  through  the  bay  of  the  pylon  make  the 
colours  vibrate  delightfully. 

Their  beauty  should  be  enjoyed  while  it  re- 
mains entire,  for  work  is  still  going  on  at  the  bar- 
rage on  that  side.  The  granite  causeway  is  being 
enlarged,  since  it  no  longer  offers  a  sufficiently 
firm  base  for  new  courses  of  masonry,  and  the 
rocks  of  the  Cataract,  blasted  every  day,  provide 
the  material  which  will  allow  the  engineers  to 
raise  the  present  plan  of  the  reservoir  six  or 
seven  yards.  And  in  five  or  six  years  nearly  all 
that  was  spared  in  1902  will  be  delivered  up  to  the 
flood.  I  It  will  flow  over  the  threshold  of  the 
doors,  it  will  invade  without  hindrance  the  parts 
provisionally  guarded  from  it,  it  will  dehberately 
attack  the  walls,  and  will  not  desist  until  it  has 
reached  the  prescribed  level.  The  figures  of 
divinities  and  kings  who  meet  or  pursue  one 
another  from  the  plinth  to  the  frieze,  presenting 
and  accepting  the  offering,  prostrated,  bowed, 
ranged  in  ceremonious  rows,  will  be  gradually 
drowned — the  feet  one  day,  then  the  knees,  the 
loins,  the  bust,  the  head — so  that  nothing  of  them 
more  will  be  seen,  and  the  mystery  of  the  worship 
of  Isis  will  be  for  ever  hidden.  A  sort  of  rect- 
angular balustrade  will  mark  the  site  of  the  kiosk 
of  Trajan.     The  roof  of  the  sanctuary   and  the 

^  This  was  written  in  1908. 
315 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

terraces  of  the  pronaos  will  float  above  like  rafts 
of  stone  anchored  one  behind  the  other,  and  only 
the  four  towers  of  the  pylons  waist  high  will 
dominate  the  waters. 

It  needs  a  veritable  effort  of  memory  to  recall 
at  all  accurately  what  the  platform  looked  like 
scarcely  eight  years  ago.  Philge,  still  intact,  in- 
genuously exhibited  the  reUcs  of  her  past,  temples 
surrounded  by  parasitic  buildings,  porticoes,  pagan 
chapels,  churches  built  out  of  the  debris  of  the 
temples,  Greek,  Arab,  Coptic  houses  crowded 
together  along  the  alleys  and  the  borders  of  the 
open  squares.  The  first  shapeless  layer  of  rubbish 
having  been  removed  and  thrown  into  the  river, 
the  skeleton  of  the  ruins  was  laid  bare  ;  the  tourist 
looked  into  the  interior  of  the  houses  just  as 
happened  to  the  adventurous  Zambullo  when  the 
Devil  on  two  sticks  removed  the  roofs  of  Madrid 
for  his  benefit.  And  if  our  tourist  could  no 
longer  see  pictures  of  actual  life,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  him  from  reconstructing  the  general 
aspect  of  the  city  by  the  aid  of  his  imagination. 

Our  Philae  is  a  creation  of  man,  or  at  least  in 
the  beginning  there  was  nothing  in  the  place  it 
occupies  except  a  little  granite  archipelago,  such 
as  there  are  many  from  one  end  of  the  Cataract 
to  the  other.  The  chances  of  the  inundation  leave 
sandy  shores  or  banks  of  blackish  mud  between 

316 


Phil« 

the  rocks,  and  they  serve  to  join  them  together, 
but  usually  what  one  year  brings  the  next  year 
entirely  sweeps  away.  But  sometimes  the  allu- 
vium resists  and,  increasing  continuously,  creates 
a  permanent  island  which  is  soon  covered  with 
verdure,  and  attracts  a  few  inhabitants.  Shall 
we  ever  know  if  Philae  existed  before  the  Said 
Djmasties  ?  In  any  case  no  Isis  of  this  extrac- 
tion could  have  become  sovereign  goddess  under 
the  victorious  Pharaohs  when  the  Theban  Dynas- 
ties ruled  as  far  as  the  confluence  of  the  two 
Niles.  Elephantine  was  then  the  important  town, 
and  its  god,  Khnoumou,  monopoUsed  the  people's 
piety  and  offerings.  Philae  only  succeeded  in 
coming  forward  several  centuries  later  when  the 
empire  was  divided,  and  when  the  First  Cataract 
served  as  the  boundary  between  Egypt  proper  and 
the  kingdom  of  Meroe.  Then  only  did  Isis, 
placed  at  the  meeting-point  of  two  great  States, 
and  envied  without  cessation  by  each,  reaUse  the 
conditions  necessary  for  playing  an  important  part. 
The  district  that  fortune  assigned  her  for  residence 
enjoyed  a  peculiar  reputation  for  holiness.  It  was 
formerly  imagined  that  it  marked  the  point  where 
the  waters  of  the  firmament,  rushing  down  on  the 
land,  gave  birth  to  the  Nile,  the  foster-father.  But 
in  the  end  people  became  convinced  that  it  was 
nothing  of  the  kind,  and  sought  the  natural  source 

317 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

farther  to  the  south.  The  legend  did  not,  how- 
ever, die  at  once,  it  only  adopted  a  new  version. 
The  Nile  did  not  fall  from  the  sky,  it  came  up  out 
of  the  ground,  and  two  bottomless  gulfs  were 
shown  in  front  of  Sehel  whence  it  violently  gushed 
forth  to  flow  in  two  opposite  directions,  towards 
Egypt  in  the  north,  towards  Ethiopia  in  the  south. 
The  two  nations  impHcitly  beUeved  in  the  exist- 
ence of  these  contrary  currents,^  and  Isis  and 
Osiris,  the  gods  of  the  land  where  the  miracle 
occurred,  seemed  to  them  worthy  of  all  veneration, 
but  foreign  saints  invariably  exercise  a  stronger 
attraction  than  native  ones. 

The  Ethiopians  were  doubtless  the  first  to 
honour  the  island  and  its  goddess  with  a  special 
devotion,  and  very  soon  were  imitated  by  the 
Egyptians.     After  a  very  few  years  the  fame  of 

^  Herodotus  II.  xxviii.  Like  many  legends,  this  rests  on 
a  natural  fact,  ill  understood.  Before  the  Assouan  barrage 
existed  the  impact  of  the  Cataract  on  the  mass  of  the  water 
in  the  centre  of  the  river  caused  a  somewhat  strong  back 
current  at  Begeh  and  Hesseh,  which,  flowing  along  the  left 
bank,  made  its  effect  felt  as  far  as  Bab-Kalabcheh.  The 
reis  of  the  Berber  boats  know  it  well,  and  utilise  it  for 
an  easy  ascent  of  the  river  in  the  summer  months  when  the 
sluice-gates  of  the  dam  are  open.  It  is  certainly  the  exist- 
ence of  this  back  current  that  suggested  to  the  river-side 
population  the  idea  of  two  Niles  flowing  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, one  to  the  north  to  Egypt,  the  other  to  the  south 
to  Ethiopia. 

318 


Phik  - 

the  goddess  passed  beyond  the  frontiers,  and 
pilgrims  crowded  from  Europe  and  Asia  as 
well  as  from  the  Soudan. 

In  order  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  the 
ground  by  the  action  of  the  same  forces  that  had 
created  it,  some  Pharaoh  whom  we  cannot  specify 
had  protected  the  south  front  by  strong  quays. 
It  is  the  side  facing  Nubia  that  receives  the 
full  force  of  the  current.  But  the  most  ancient 
sanctuary  was  neither  large  nor  splendid  enough 
to  suffice  for  the  multitude  of  the  faithful.  The 
Ptolemies  built  our  temple,  and  the  Roman 
Emperors,  continuing  their  work,  grouped  around 
it  subsidiary  buildings  which  allowed  the  clergy  to 
arrange  the  rites  and  ceremonies  on  a  large  scale. 
The  nature  of  the  buildings  and  the  reasons  for 
them  are  clearly  seen  when  viewed  from  the  top  ' 
of  the  pylon.  On  festival  days  the  pilgrims  ap- 
proached from  the  south  ;  a  staircase  contrived  in 
the  thickness  of  the  masonry,  between  the  kiosk 
of  Nectanebo  and  the  chapel  of  Arihosnofir,  led  to 
the  entrance  of  the  temple.  There  they  formed  in 
procession  with  their  offerings  and  the  sacrificial 
victims,  and,  headed  by  the  priests,  made  their  way 
to  the  first  pylon  between  the  porticoes.  Before 
the  construction  of  the  barrage  the  building  was 
almost  intact,  and  the  descriptions  of  classical 
writers^  added  to  the  subjects  of  the  bas-reliefs, 

319 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

easily  furnish  sufficient  material  for  reconstruct- 
ing it. 

The  people,  garbed  in  white  and  carrying  palm- 
branches,  waited  under  the  porticoes,  and  as  soon  as 
the  first  visitors  set  foot  on  the  ground,  shouts 
burst  forth.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
varied  than  this  multitude.  It  was  made  up 
of  elements  that  came  from  every  part  of  the 
world,  not  only  of  Egyptians  or  Greeks,  but  of 
people  from  great  Rome,  of  Spaniards  and  Gauls, 
even  of  the  barbarians  of  Scythia  or  Persia,  each  in 
his  national  costume  and  with  his  national  char- 
acteristics. The  religion  of  Isis  was  joyous  and 
gentle,  as  was  proper  with  a  goddess  who  taught 
human  beings  the  use  of  wheat  and  cereals,  sancti- 
fied marriage,  organised  the  family,  and  promul- 
gated social  laws.  Choristers,  accompanied  by  the 
various  kinds  of  harps  and  flutes  sculptured  on  the 
columns  of  the  small  temple  of  Hathor,  hastened 
or  retarded  the  march.  The  music  was  heard  long 
after  the  end  of  the  procession  had  disappeared 
within  the  great  door.  As  no  one  would  have 
dared  to  present  himself  empty-handed,  the  treasure 
and  mortmain  of  Isis  compared  favourably  with 
the  fortune  of  the  most  richly  endowed  gods  in  the 
world.  Kings  and  Emperors  gave  farms,  vine- 
yards, cattle  and  slaves,  whole  territories  indeed. 
Private  individuals  left  her  gold,  jewels,  precious 

320 


Philje 

-stuffs,  statues.  There  was  no  worshipper  so  poor 
that  he  did  not  offer  his  cake,  his  flowers,  or  his 
bird  at  some  altar,  and  the  priest  was  not  alone  in 
profiting  by  the  gift.  The  residents  lodged  all 
these  people,  and  provided  the  trifling  objects 
that  each  took  away  as  sacred  souvenirs  of 
his  visit.  It  would  be  an  error  to  think  that  the 
ancient  divinities  were  incapable  of  inspiring  in 
their  worshippers  the  fervour  and  ecstasies  that 
characterise  Christian  pilgrims.  Faith  was  as 
•strong  and  religious  feeling  as  deep  at  Philse  as 
they  are  at  Lourdes  or  Jerusalem.  If  the  coarse 
figures  of  the  human  Isis  or  the  serpent  Isis 
which  we  pick  up  in  the  ruins  could  speak,  they 
would  tell  us  the  same  tales  of  grief  consoled  or 
peace  restored  to  unhappy  souls  as  the  humble  tin 
Virgins  or  the  penny  crucifixes  in  Palestine. 

The  prosperity  lasted  for  five  centuries,  and 
then  the  pagan  persecutor  endured  at  the  hands 
of  triumphant  Christianity  the  same  persecution 
that  he  himself  had  inflicted.  Philge  and  its  Isis 
owe  it  to  their  position  that  they  defied  its 
effects,  and  so  survived  the  most  celebrated  sanc- 
tuaries and  divinities.  The  attraction  they  exer- 
cised from  the  first  on  the  Ethiopians  was  felt 
in  turn  by  all  the  peoples  who  followed  in 
the  valley  of  the  Upper  Nile  after  the  fall  of 
the  kingdom  of  Meroe.      When  the   Blemmyes 

321  X 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

took  possession  of  Nubia  in  the  middle  ot 
the  third  century  a.d.,  they  did  not  escape  it, 
and  later,  when  the  Emperor  Theodosius  ordered 
the  temples  to  be  closed,  the  reverence  they  ex- 
cited gave  effective  protection.  The  Christians  of 
Philge,  encouraged  by  the  bishops  of  Syene,  would 
have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  carry  out  the 
prescriptions  of  the  Imperial  edict,  but  had  they 
touched  the  goddess  or  her  priests  they  would 
have  provoked  an  attack  of  the  Blemmyes. 
They  took  care  not  to  do  so ;  and  while  every- 
where else  the  idols  succumbed  to  the  attacks 
of  the  monks,  Isis  remained  firm  in  the  very 
face  of  Christ  triumphant.  Even  in  451,  under 
Marcian,  a  regular  treaty  changed  the  equivocal 
toleration  by  which  she  had  benefited  into  a 
national  obligation  for  the  Romans.  For  a  hun- 
dred years  from  the  day  on  which  it  was  signed,, 
the  Blemmyes  would  have  the  right  to  come 
and  prostrate  themselves  before  her  altars.  And 
such  was  the  weakness  of  the  Empire  and  the 
fear  of  the  barbarians,  that,  in  spite  of  the  im- 
patience of  the  devout,  the  regulation  was  respected 
to  the  end.  It  was  only  towards  the  end  of  the 
reign  of  Justinian  that,  the  Nubians  ha\dng 
destroyed  the  Blemmyes,  Theodore,  bishop  of 
Syene,  pulled  down  the  altars  and  turned  the 
temple   into   a    church. 

We  can  imagine  what  would  have  been  the 

322 


Phik 

condition  of  the  unfortunate  priests  during  that 
last  century.  The  greater  number  of  their  fellow- 
citizens  were  converts  to  the  dominant  religion, 
and  only  those  who  belonged  to  some  old  sacer- 
dotal family  remained  faithful  to  the  old  religion. 
We  can  imagine  them  shut  up  in  the  sacred 
enclosure,  and  leading  there  a  precarious  existence 
under  the  perpetual  menace  of  popular  fanaticism. 
They  had  still  their  hours  of  joy,  however,  when 
an  embassy  sent  by  the  king  of  the  Blemmyes 
disembarked  with  ceremony,  bringing  the  official 
offerings.  They  put  on  their  ceremonial  robes, 
took  the  statue  from  her  tabernacle,  opened  both 
wings  of  the  doors,  and  awaited  their  guests  near 
the  kiosk  of  Nectanebo.  They  advanced  in  pro- 
cession as  of  old,  and  the  expression  of  their  faith 
was  so  strong  that  the  worshippers  might  easily  have 
believed  themselves  to  be  carried  back  several  gene- 
rations to  the  time  when  Isis  was  really  mistress  of 
the  world.  The  illusion  lasted  for  the  few  weeks 
they  stayed  in  the  town,  then,  the  ceremonies 
performed  and  the  time  of  their  sojourn  expired, 
they  had   to   regain  their  native   land. 

About  two  miles  to  the  south  of  Philag  the 
Nile  suddenly  turns  and  is  lost  in  a  bend,  and 
the  eye,  seeing  the  granite  cliff  that  hides  Nubia, 
perceives  nothing  beyond.  How  often  must  these 
poor  followers  of  Isis  whose  names,  Smet  or 
Sm^tkhem  or  Pakhoumios,  are  preserved  in  the 

323 


Egypt:  Ancient  Sites  and  Modern  Scenes 

inscriptions,  have  gathered  on  one  of  the  towers 
of  the  great  south  pylon  to  assist  at  the  depar- 
ture !  Might  it  not  be  the  last  visit  of  these 
departing  friends?  The  fury  of  the  Christians 
was  continually  gi'owing,  and  the  cries  against 
the  goddess  rose  more  persistently  to  the  heavens. 
If  it  pleased  the  bishops  to  stir  up  the  inhabitants 
of  the  neighbouring  convents  and  let  them  loose 
in  the  island,  where  could  the  followers  of  Isis 
hope  for  safety,  and  what  could  the  Blemmyes 
do  except  avenge  their  murder  in  the  blood 
of  their  murderers  ?  However,  the  boats,  wafted 
by  the  north  wind,  went  on  their  way  to  the 
sound  of  hymns.  One  after  another  they  saluted, 
doubled  the  point,  disappeared,  and  the  last  had 
long  vanished  while  the  priests  still  sought  to  see  it. 
What  did  it  not  cost  them  to  tear  themselves 
away  from  the  contemplation  of  the  Nile,  once 
again  become  solitary,  and  to  descend  again  into 
the  heavy  atmosphere  of  religious  hatred  that  the 
joy  of  their  ephemeral  security  had  momentarily 
lightened  ?  Every  year  since  my  return  to  Egypt 
I  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  platform  which 
witnessed  their  grief,  and  standing  before  the 
panorama  which  has  changed  so  Uttle  since  their 
day,  I  see,  just  as  they  did,  the  flotilla  of  Nubian 
boats  vanish  in  the  south,  and  thinking  of  their 
wretched  existence,  I  feel  in  my  own  heart  the 
rebound   of  their  anguish. 

324 


INDEX 


124 


166 


Ababdehs,  289,  295 

Abbas  Pacha,  76,  243 

Abd-el-Gournah,  97,  154  n 

Abnoub,  55,  65 

Abou'1-Feda,  42 

Abou'l-Haggag,  98, 

Abydos,  73 

Abyssinia,  73 

Af rites,  50,  164,  165 

Ahmosis,  256 

Ai,  179 

Akmim,  73 

Alcman,  52 

Alexandria,  69,  10 1 

Alexandria,  Church  of,  308,  309 

Ali  Abi-Yousef  Abou-Thaleb,  the 

Cheikh,  290 
Amenemhait  III.,  179 
Amenemhait  IV.,  226  n 
Amenothes,  son  of  Pahapi,  145 
Amenothes  I.,  170 
Amenothes  II.,  95,  104,  107,  no, 

111-17,  119,  154,  169,  183,  189, 

192,211,  213 
Amenothes  III.,  152,  205,  215 
Amenothes  IV.,  179 
Amentit,  120 
Ammonios,  304 
Amon,  98,  102,  105,  107,  147,  148, 

151,  156,  162,  168,  172,  173,  178, 

180,  210,  234 
Amon,  Temple  of,  161,  216 
Amonra,  129,  145,  147,  179,  210 


290 


Amr  ben  el-As, 

Anakhoui,  175 

Anna,  tomb  of,  65 

Antaeus,  Temple  of,  67 

Antonines,  the,  84,  245 

Antouf,  151 

Anubis,  33,  90 

Apries,  219 

"  Arabian  Nights,''  the,  144,  202 

Arabs,  the,  124 

Archelaus,  403 

Arihosnofir,  Chapel  of,  319 

Armais,  210,  211 

Asfoun,  229,  231,  238 

Assouan,  206,  281-93,  294, 295,  297^ 

302,305,311,312 
Assouan  railway,  256,  261 
Atar-en-Nabi,  Mosque  of,  15 
Atfieh,  16 
Atripe,  308 
Augustus,  313 
Aurelian,  the  Emperor,  251 

B 

Bab-el-Molouk,  202 
Bab-Kalabcheh,  318  « 
Baoukou,  249 
Baoukouni-Khonsou,  127 
Baraize,  M.,  206,  247 
Barsanti,  M.  Alexandre,  273,  274^ 

275,  276 
Baskharoun  Awad,  119,   120,  122, 

123,  138,  139 
Bayadiyeh,  166 


325 


Index 


Bedrechein,  15,  16 

Begeh,  318  » 

Bellianeh,  73 

Beni- Hassan,  tombs  of,  22 

Berbers,  the,  286 

Biban-el-Molouk,    118,    154,    204, 

206,  211 
Bibeh,  16,  19 
Bicharis,  312 
Bisou,  160 
Bissing,  M.  de,  206 
Blemmyes,  321,  322,  323,  324 
Bordelais,  the,  94 
Boulaq,  120 
Bouriant,  M,,  268 
Bubastes,  the,  178 
Bubastis,  247 


Cairo,  13,  14,  15,  60,  61,  68,  69,  76, 
78,  95,  loi,  107,  175,  176,  243, 
290,  295 

Caligula,  86,  87 

Carter,  Mr.,  115,  116,  120,  204,  205, 
206,  213,  216 

Charronah,  19,  20 

Chauvin,  M.,  122,  164, 

Cheikh-Fadl,  19,  21 

Chekalhil,  42 

Chellal,  railway  of,  286 

Chenoude,  309 

China,  292 

Claudius,  86 

Copts,  the,  34,  98,  166,  243 

Crocodile  Grotto,  the,  42-55 

Cyrus,  the  younger,  234 


Dairah  Sanieh,  factories  of,  19 

David,  Felicien,  293 

Davis,    Mr.    Theodore,  204,  20^^ 

206,  216 
Decauville  railway  line,  133 
Decauville  trucks,  129,  136 


Deir  Amba  Hedere,  294  n 
Deir  Amba  Sinaan,  286 
Deir-el-Bahari,  97,  107,  no,  228 
Deir-el-Bakara,  21 
Deir-el-bayad,  18 
Deir-el-Medineh,  97,  222 
Deir-Memoun,  17 
Denderah,  81,  83-93,  149,  244 
Desaix,  60,  313 
Dilemites,  310 
Diospolis  Parva,  67 
Djinniahs,  163 
Djinns,  162,  163,  164 
Domitian,  84 
Drah-abou'l-reggah,  97 
Dronkah,  60 


Edf ou,  149, 244,  254  n,  266,  270-80 
Edfou,  Hypostyle  Hall  of,  134 
Ehrlich,  M.,  132,  133 
Elephantine,    281,   282,   293,   296, 

297,  311,  317 
Elephantine,  Temple  of,  286 
El  Hamra,  hamlet  of,  56,  57 
El-Hawatha,  48 
El-Kab,  248-61,  262,  266,  268,  269, 

270 
El-Kalaa,  the  fortress,  254,  254  n 
El  Khizam,  95 
El-Marazi,  18 
El-Mouissat,  262,  266 
El  Ouastah,  57 
El-Q6z,  281 
Esneh,  238-47,  279 
Ethiopia,  96,  318 
Ethiopians,  321 
Eyoub-Bey,  219 


Fadilieh  Canal,  125,  219 
Fayoum,  necropolises  of,  51 
Fenelon,  100 


326 


Index 


G 

^amoleh,  95,  218 
Oaou-el-Kebir,  67 
Garstang,  Mr.,  264 
Gebel-Abou-Feda,  65,  72 
Gebel-Abou-Feda,  Convent  of  the 

Pulley  at,  32-41 
Gebel  Cheikh  Embarek,  19 
Gebel  Serag,  254  n 
Girgeh,  67 

Gizeh,  108,  no,  154,  167 
Gournah,  165,  186,  202,  222 
Gournah,  Temple  of,  125 

H 

Hadrian,  propylaea  of,  313 
Harmhabi,  tomb  of,  126 
Harris,  Mr.,  51 
Hathor,  85,  86,  88,  89,  93,  244,  313, 

321 
Hatshopsouitou,  Queen,  132,  157, 

211 
Hedjaz,  78,  289 
Helleh,  240 
Helouan,  15 
Heou,  Tell  of,  67,  68 
Herodotus,  247,  318  « 
Hesseh,  318  « 
Homer,  51 
Horsiesis,  178 

Horus,  27,  90,  213,  264,  270,  280 
Hyperides,  lost  orations  of,  51 

I 

Ibrahim  the  Victorious,  288 

Ibrahimieh  Canal,  56,  57 

Imouthes,  144, 145 

India,  292 

Insinger,  M.,  96,  122 

Irak,  124 

Isis,  90, 313, 315*  317,  318,  320,  321, 

323,  324 
Ismail  Pacha,  17,  19 


J 

Jerusalem,  321 

Jones,  Mr.,  264,  265,  267 

Justinian,  322 

K 

Kamosis,  227,  256 

Karimat,  17 

Karnak,  97,  98,  100,  102,  118,  128- 

42,  143-82,  272 
Kasr-en-Nil,  bridge  of,  14 
Kawali,  48 

Keneh,  66,  75-82,  175,  242,  243 
Khnoumou,  298,  299,  317 
Khonsou,  154,  159 
Khonsou,  Temple  of,  26,  134,  159, 

160 
Khouniatonou,  148,  151 
Kom-el-Ahmar,  249,  253,  260,  262- 

69,279 
Kom-Ombo,  246 
Kom-Ombo,  necropolises  of,  51 
Koran,  the,  80,  156,  292,  298  n 


Lacau,  M.  de,  206 

Legrain,  M.,  118,  122,  129,  130, 
i3i>  132,  i33>  140,  141,  142,  i43> 
151,  169,  171,  i73»  176,  i77>  i78> 
180,  206 

Libyan  Desert,  the,  294 

Libyan  mountains,  103 

Loret,  M.,  112,  114, 115,  204 

Lourdes,  320 

Louxor,  69,  79,  95,  96,  99,  100,  103, 
136,  150,  155,  160,  163,  166,  167, 
i73»  i75>  205,  242,  251,  286 

Louxor,  Temple  of,  126,  162,  165, 

195 
Lowatas,  310 

M 

Maabdeh,  44,  45,  53,  55 
Maabdeh,  hypogeum  of,  42 


327 


Index 


Maazeh  Bedouins,  44 

Madagascar,  Queens  of,  179 

Mahmoud  Pacha,  286 

Mahomet,  292 

Mahoudeau,  M.,  21 

Maiharpiriou,  Prince,  204,  205 

Maiya,  210,  211 

Mamelouk  Bridge,  the,  60 

Manakhpre,  234,  235,  336 

Manescalco-Bey,  131 

Manfalout,  48 

Maout,  147,  151,  153,  160 

Maout,  Temple  of,  159 

Marcian,  322 

Mariette,  84,  no,  143, 161,  271 

Mataanah,  229 

Medinet-Habou,  97 

Mehemet  Ali,  17,  240 

Mellaoui,  175 

Memphis,  147,  249 

Memphis,  site  of,  15 

Memphis,  tomb  of,  25 

Menes,  45 

Mercoure,  the  Apa,  305 

Meroe,  kingdom  of,  317,  321 

Minieh,  21,  59 

Moghrebins,  the,  124 

Mohammed  ibn-Abou-Thaled,  the 

Cheikh,  291 
Mokattam,  179 
MoHere's  Harpagon,  100 
Montou,  Temple  of,  158 

N 

Nag-Hammadi,  sugar  refineries  of, 

83 
Napoleon,  278 
Nechao,  226 
Nectanebo,  278 
Nectanebo,  Kiosk  of,  319,  323 
Nectanebo,  obelisk  of,  313 
Nekhabit,  the  goddess,  249 
Nekhabit,  culture  of,  26 
Nephthys,  33,  90 


Nero,  86,  87 

Newberry,  Mr.,  206 

Nice,  283 

Nile,  the,  13,  16,  25,  28,  29,  32,  37,, 
42,  46,  47,  63-74,  76,  77>  81.  86, 
91,  95,  103,  no,  219,  228,  229, 
238,  239,  241,  249,  252,  253,  26o„ 
262,  269,  270,  279,  299,  311,  314^ 
317,318,323,324 

Nile,  the  Blue,  73 

Nile,  the  White,  73 

Nubia,  253,  281,  310,  319,  322,  325 

O 

Old  Cairo,  buildings  of,  15 
Ombos,  149 
Omm-el-Kougour,  32 
Osiris,  90,  191,  318 
Ouady-Halfah,  167 
Ouakouak,  laud  of,  292 
Ourouzieh,  sandbank  of,  105 


Pahiri,  257,  258,  259,  260,  261 
Pakhoumios,  323 
"  Peau  d'Ane,"  202 
Persia,  124,  320 
Petrie,  Mr.,  226  n 
Phibammon,  the  Apa,  305 
Philae,  14,  149,  282,  286,  312-24 
Phtah,  236  n 

Phtah,  Temple  of,  140,  143-54,  i8r 
Pioupi  I.,  264 
Pioupi  II.,  251 
Pisendi,  309 
Pnoup,  the  Apa,  304 
Poimen,  the  Apa,  305 
Port  Said,  78 
Pouanit,  the,  160 
Provence,  94 
Psammetichus  I.,  226 
Psammetichus,  son  of  Neith,  229^ 
203,  235 


328 


Index 


Ptolemy  I.,  149,  181 
Ptolemy  Lathyrus,  145 
Pyramids,  the,  14 


Quibell,  Mr.,  264,  265,  266,  268 
Qodshou,  108 


Ra,  87 

Racine,  loi 

Radesieh,  261 

Rams,  avenue  of,  159 

Ramses  II.,  31,  86,  108,  109,  120, 

128,  249 
Ramses  III.,  108,  185,  189 
Ramses  V.,  185,  189 
Ramses  VI.,  119 
Ramses  IX.,  185,  189 
Ramses  XL,  186 
Ramses  XII.,  269 
Ramses-nakhouitoa,  175 
Ramessides,  pylon  of  the,  132 
Robespierre,  288 
Rodah,  14,  167 
Rome,  Catacombs  of,  50 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  loi 


Said,  the,  65,  73,  79,  204,  262,  297 

Said  Pacha,  288 

Said,  cities  of  the,  149 

St.  Athanasius,  309 

St.  Basil,  309 

St.  Chrysostom,  309 

St.  Cyril,  309 

St.  Hatre,  295  n 

St.  Hedere,  298,  299,  302 

St.  Mark,  309 

St.  Simeon,  Convent  of,  294-311 

Saites,  the,  179 

Sanouosrit  I.,  170,  172 


Sanouosrit  IV.,  169 

Sappho,  52 

Say-Suares  Company,  21 

Scete,  308 

Schweinfurth,  218-28 

Scythia,  320 

Sehel,  318 

Selves,  Colonel,  288 

Sesostris,  the  Pharaoh,  14 

Sethe,  M.,  226  n 

Setoui  I.,  108,  109,  134,  140,    148, 

151 
Setoui  I.,  tomb  of,  185,  186,  187, 

189,  192 
Setoui  II.,  132 
Severus,  245 
Shakespeare,  loi 
Shepherd  Kings,  the,  256,  259 
Sidi  Abderahim  el  Kenaoui,  80,  8 1 
Siout,   56-62,  65,  66,  68,   78,  175, 

242,  289 
Siout,  hill  of,  48 
Smet,  323 
Smetkhem,  323 
Sokhit,  144,  147,  152,  153,  154 
Sorrento,  283 

Soudan,  the,  263,  266,  289,  319 
Sovkow,  the  god,  51 
Suez,  78 

Sweden,  Princess  Royal  of,  286 
Syene,  113,  322 
Syria,  108, 109 
Syrians,  the,  124 


Tadrous,  the  Emir,  36 

Thebes,  31,  94-103,  no,  121,  129, 

146,  147,  148, 154, 171 «,  200,  234, 

249 
Thebes,  tombs  of,  25,  65 
Theodore,  bishop  of  Syene,  322 
Theodosius,  the  Emperor,  322 
Thot,  183,  218-28 


329 


Index 


Thoutmosis  I.,  iii 

Thoutmosis  III.,  86,  io8,  iii,  147, 

148,  151,  170,  213,  234,  249,  251 
Thoutmosis  IV.,  169,  205,  206,  207, 

210,  211,  212 
Ti,  tomb  of,  27 
Tia,  169 

Tiberius,  86,  87,  313 
Tigris,  96 

Tiles,  Mosque  of,  67 
Trajan,  313 
Trajan,  Kiosk  of,  315 
Tytus,  Mr.,  206 


Valley  of  the  kings,  90,  100,  185, 

218,  228 
Victoria  Nyanza,  73 
Virgil,  280 


W 


Wefels,  M.,  170 


Zambullo,  316 
Zimmermann,  M.,  186,  il 


330 


Tlbe  tSresbam  press, 

UNWIN  BROTHERS,  LIMITED, 
WOKING  AND  LONDON 


RETURN 


MAIN  CIRCULATION 


ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL 
RENEW  BOOKS  BY  CALLING  642-3405 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


^1^1% 


r^:::givED 


JUN  2  /|  1336 


CiRCULATION  DLH 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


f 


</V 


CD^7^DEDba 


2100^.> 


